shaking his
head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by
Winky, sirs and miss!"
"She's unhappy!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her
up instead of covering her up?"
"Begging your pardon, miss," said the house-elf, bowing deeply again, "but houseelves
has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be
served."
"Oh for heavens sake!" Hermione cried. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just
as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and
holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told - look at
Dobby!"
"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The
cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen.
They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.
"We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large
ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Harry's arms. "Good-bye!"
The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting
them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs.
"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called miserably from the hearth,
where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky.
"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" said Ron angrily as
the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. "They won't want us visiting them
now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"
"Oh as if you care about that!" scoffed Hermione. "You only like coming down
here for the food!"
It was an irritable sort of day after that. Harry got so tired of Ron and Hermione
sniping at each other over their homework in the common room that he took
Sirius's food up to the Owlery that evening on his own.
Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by
himself, so Harry enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well. When they
had set off into the dusk, looking extremely odd carrying the large package
between them. Harry leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the grounds, at the
349
dark, rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the rippling sails of the
Durmstrang ship. An eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrids
chimney; it soared toward the castle, around the Owlery, and out of sight. Looking
down, Harry saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. Harry
wondered what he was doing; it looked as though he were making a new vegetable
patch. As he watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage
and walked over to Hagrid. She appeared to be trying to engage him in
conversation. Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen to prolong their
talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterward.
Unwilling to go back to Gryffindor Tower and listen to Ron and Hermione
snarling at each other, Harry watched Hagrid digging until the darkness swallowed
him and the owls around Harry began to awake, swooshing past him into the night.
By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and to
Harrys relief, Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard
food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false;
the bacon, eggs, and kippers were quite as good as usual.
When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be
expecting something.
"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig
yesterday."
"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily
Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."
"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think
you're in luck -"
A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.
"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's -"
But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely
followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.
"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry, seizing Hermione's
goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling
close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.
"What on earth - ?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it,
and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.
"What's up?" said Ron.
"It,'s - oh how ridiculous -"
She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed
350
from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.
YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES
BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.
"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another.
"'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you. . . .' 'You deserve to be
boiled in frog spawn. . . .' Ouch!"
She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of
petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.
"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and
sniffing it.
"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her
hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores
that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.
"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around
Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone. . . ."
"I warned her!" said Ron as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her
hands. "I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one ..." He read out
one of the letters Hermione had left behind: "I read In Witch Weekly about how
you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will
be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.'
Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."
Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology. As Harry and Ron left the greenhouse for
their Care of Magical Creatures class, they saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle
descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and
giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of Harry,
Pansy called, "Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so
upset at breakfast?"
Harry ignored her; he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how
much trouble the Witch Weekly article had caused.
Hagrid, who had told them last lesson that they had finished with unicorns, was
waiting for them outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his feet.
Harrys heart sank at the sight of the crates - surely not another skrewt hatching? -
but when he got near enough to see inside, he found himself looking at a number
of flurry black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat,
like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all
the attention.
"These're nifflers," said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. "Yeh find
'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff. . . . There yeh go, look."
351
One of the nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's
watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward.
"Useful little treasure detectors," said Hagrid happily. "Thought we'd have some
fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at the large patch of freshly
turned earth Harry had watched him digging from the Owlery window. "I've
buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up
most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a niffler, an get ready ter set 'em
loose."
Harry took off his watch, which he was only wearing out of habit, as it didn't work
anymore, and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he picked up a niffler. It put its long
snout in Harry's ear and sniffed enthusiastically. It was really quite cuddly.
"Hang on," said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, "there's a spare niffler here . .
. who's missin? Where's Hermione?"
"She had to go to the hospital wing," said Ron.
"We'll explain later," Harry muttered; Pansy Parkinson was listening.
It was easily the most fun they had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures. The
nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it were water, each
scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into their
hands. Ron's was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins.
"Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" he asked excitedly as his niffler dived back
into the soil, splattering his robes.
"Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," said Hagrid, grinning. "They wreck houses,
nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now," he added, pacing around the
patch of earth while the nifflers continued to dive. "I on'y buried a hundred coins.
Oh there y'are, Hermione!"
Hermione was walking toward them across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily
bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her beadily.
"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid. "Count yer coins! An' there's no
point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's
leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."
Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's
niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of
Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the
rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed
behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. Harry noticed Madame
Maxime watching them out other carriage window.
"What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?" sai