Hagrid moved forwards, but his crossbow was still raised and his eyes were still fixed threateningly upon Magorian.

“We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!” Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. “And our tolerance is waning!”

Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian.

“Yeh’ll tolerate ’im as long as he’s here, it’s as much his Forest as yours!” he yelled, as Harry and Hermione both pushed with all their might against Hagrid’s moleskin waistcoat in an effort to keep him moving forwards. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it.

“Calm down, you two,” he said, turning to walk on while they panted along behind him. “Ruddy old mules, though, eh?”

“Hagrid,” said Hermione breathlessly, skirting the patch of nettles they had passed on their way there, “if the centaurs don’t want humans in the Forest, it doesn’t really look as though Harry and I will be able—”

“Ah, you heard what they said, “said Hagrid dismissively, “they wouldn’t hurt foals—I mean, kids. Anyway, we can’ let ourselves be pushed aroun’ by that lot.”

“Nice try,” Harry murmured to Hermione, who looked crestfallen.

At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.

“Was that another goal?” asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. “Or d’yeh reckon the match is over?”

“I don’t know,” said Hermione miserably. Harry saw that she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. He knew he must look little better.

“I reckon it’s over, yeh know!” said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. “Look—there’s people comin’ out already—if yeh two hurry yeh’ll be able ter blend in with the crowd an’ no one’ll know yeh weren’t there!”

“Good idea,” said Harry. “Well… see you later, then, Hagrid.”

“I don’t believe him,” said Hermione in a very unsteady voice, the moment they were out of earshot of Hagrid. “I don’t believe him. I really don’t believe him.”

“Calm down,” said Harry.

“Calm down!” she said feverishly. “A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we’re supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I—don’t—believe—him!”

“We haven’t got to do anything yet!” Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. “He’s not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen.”

“Oh, come off it, Harry!” said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. “Of course he’s going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we’ve just seen, who can blame Umbridge?”

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And sure enough, Harry could see the earth around the tree’s roots beginning to crack.	\|	There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears.

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