They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.
“Right then,” said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall. “Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?”
“What?” snapped Snape, though Harry knew he had heard perfectly well. “Oh—well—I suppose…”
“So that’s fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom and Miss Granger,” said Professor McGanagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor’s hour-glass as she spoke. “Oh—and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose,” she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw’s glass. “Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape—so there we are…”
A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.
“Well, Potter, Malfoy—I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this,” Professor McGonagall continued briskly.
Harry did not need telling twice—he thrust his wand back inside his robes and headed straight for the front doors without another glance at Snape and Malfoy.
The hot sun hit him with a blast as he walked across the lawns towards Hagrid’s cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the Sunday Prophet and eating sweets, looked up at him as he passed; some called out to him, or else waved, clearly eager to show that they, like the Prophet, had decided he was something of a hero. Harry said nothing to any of them. He had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but he had so far avoided being questioned and preferred to keep it that way.
He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid’s cabin door that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome. Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden.
“All righ’, Harry!” he said, beaming, when Harry approached the fence. “Come in, come in, we’ll have a cup o’ dandelion juice…”
“How’s things?” Hagrid asked him, as they settled down at his wooden table with a glass apiece of iced juice. “Yeh—er—feelin’ all righ’, are yeh?”
Harry knew from the look of concern on Hagrid’s face that he was not referring to Harry’s physical well-being.
“I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, because he could not bear to discuss the thing that he knew was in Hagrid’s mind. “So, where’re you been?”
“Bin hidin’ out in the mountains,” said Hagrid. “Up in a cave, like Sirius did when he…”