They were silent again. Hermione glanced nervously at Harry and Ron, plainly wanting them to speak.
“But you still haven’t explained how you got in this state, Hagrid,” Ron said, gesturing towards Hagrid’s bloodstained face.
“Or why you’re back so late,” said Harry. “Sirius says Madame Maxime got back ages ago—”
“Who attacked you?” said Ron.
“I haven’ bin attacked!” said Hagrid emphatically. “I—”
But the rest of his words were drowned in a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. Hermione gasped; her mug slipped through her fingers and smashed on the floor; Fang yelped. All four of them stared at the window beside the doorway. The shadow of somebody small and squat rippled across the thin curtain.
“It’s her!” Ron whispered.
“Get under here!” Harry said quickly; seizing the Invisibility Cloak, he whirled it over himself and Hermione while Ron tore around the table and dived under the Cloak as well. Huddled together, they backed away into a corner. Fang was barking madly at the door. Hagrid looked thoroughly confused.
“Hagrid, hide our mugs!”
Hagrid seized Harry and Ron’s mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Fang’s basket. Fang was now leaping up at the door; Hagrid pushed him out of the way with his foot and pulled it open.
Professor Umbridge was standing in the doorway wearing her green tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, she leaned back so as to see Hagrid’s face; she barely reached his navel.
“So,” she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody deaf. “You’re Hagrid, are you?”
Without waiting for an answer she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in every direction.
“Get away,” she snapped, waving her handbag at Fang, who had bounded up to her and was attempting to lick her face.
“Er—I don’ want ter be rude,” said Hagrid, staring at her, “but who the ruddy hell are you?”