stle, an' Sirius 
Black lurkin' around --" 

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to 
start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black. But 
Harry couldn't bring himself to do it, not now that he saw Hagrid so 
miserable and scared. 

"Listen, Hagrid," he said, "you can't give up. Hermione's right, You 
just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses --" 

"I'm sure I've read about a case of hippogriff-baiting," said Hermione 
thoughtfully, "where the hippogriff got off I'll look it up for you, 
Hagrid, and see exactly what happened." 

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron to 
help them. 

"Er -- shall I make a cup of tea?" said Ron. 

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Harry stared at him. 

"It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron muttered, 
shrugging. 

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea 
in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a 
tablecloth and said, "Yer right. I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta 
pull meself together..... 

Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his 
head on Hagrid's knee. 

"I've not bin meself lately," said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand 
and mopping his face with the other. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one 
likin' me classes --" 

"We do like them!" lied Hermione at once. 

"Yeah, they're great!" said Ron, crossing his fingers under the table. 
"Er -- how are the flobberworms?" 

"Dead," said Hagrid gloomily. "Too much lettuce." 

"Oh no!" said Ron, his lip twitching. 

"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," said Hagrid, 
with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in 
the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban --" 

He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him 
breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in 
Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione said timidly, "Is it awful in 
there, Hagrid?" 

"Yeh've no idea," said Hagrid quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. 
Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind... 
the day I got expelled from Hogwarts... day me dad died... day I had ter 
let Norbert go...." 

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His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once 
won in a game of cards. 

"Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' really 
see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me 
sleep. When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' I 
came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the 
dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go." 

"But you were innocent!" said Hermione. 

Hagrid snorted. 

"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a 
couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the 
happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not." 

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said 
quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go... tryin' ter make him fly 
away... but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go inter 
hidin'? An' -an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law...." He looked up at 
them, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back 
ter Azkaban." 

The trip to Hagrid's, though far from fun, had nevertheless had the 
effect Ron and Hermione had hoped. Though Harry had by no means 
forgotten about Black, he couldn't brood constantly on revenge if he 
wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the 
Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He, Ron, and Hermione went to the 
library the next day and returned to the empty common room laden with 
books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. The three of them 
sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty 
volumes about famous cases If marauding beasts, speaking occasionally 
when they ran across something relevant. 

"Here's something... there was a case in 1722... but the hippogriff was 
convicted -- ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting --" 

"This might help, look -- a manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they 
let the manticore off -- oh -- no, that was only because everyone was 

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too scared to go near it." 

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas 
decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the 
students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe 
were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside 
every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve 
Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious 
smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had 
grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of 
Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air. 

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him. 

"Oy! Presents!" 

Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the 
semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had 
appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents. 

'Another sweater from Mum... maroon again... see if you've got one. 

Harry had. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the 
Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince 
pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As he moved all 
these things aside, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath. 

"What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of 
maroon socks in his hand. 

"Dunno..." 

Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming 
broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and 
jumped off his bed for a closer look. 

"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. 

It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see 
every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He 

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could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at 
exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the 
golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the 
perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail. 

"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice. 

"Look and see if there's a card," said Harry. 

Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings. 

"Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?" 

"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the 
Dursleys." 

I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron, now walking around and around the 
Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility 
Cloak anonymously...." 

"That was my dad's, though," said Harry. "Dumbledore was just Passing it 
on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go 
giving students stuff like this --" 

"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" said Ron. "In case some 
git like Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey, Harry" -- Ron gave a great 
whoop of laughter -- "Malfoy! Wait till he sees you on this! He'll be 
sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!" 

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the 
Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the 
thought of Malfoy. "Who -?" 

"I know," said Ron, controlling himself, "I know who it could've been -Lupin!" 


"What?" said Harry, now starting to laugh himself "Lupin? Listen, if he 
had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes." 

"Yeah, but he likes you," said Ron. "And he was away when your Nimbus 

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got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon 


Alley and get this for you --" 
"What d'you mean, he was away?" said Harry. "He was ill when I was 
playing in that match." 


"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," said Ron. "I was there, cleaning 
out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?" 
Harry frowned at Ron. 
"I can't see Lupin affording something like this." 


"What're you two laughing about?" 
Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing gown and carrying 
Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied 
around his neck. 


"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from 


the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. 
But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's 
empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt. 


"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?" 
"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it." 
To his great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or 


intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her 
lip. 

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron. 
"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I 
mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?" 


Ron sighed exasperatedly. 


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"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said. 

"So it must've been really expensive...." 

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said 
Ron happily. 

"Well... who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even 
tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione. 

"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on 
it? Can I?" 

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione 
shrilly. 

Harry and Ron looked at her. 

"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it -- sweep the floor?" said 
Ron. 

But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, 
right at 