Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass

Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.

“Well?” said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down around his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Harry's knee and drooling

all over his robes. “What's this? Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?”

“No,” said Harry at once. “We wanted to see you.”

“We've missed you!” said Hermione tremulously.

“Missed me, have yeh?” snorted Hagrid. “Yeah. Righ'.”

He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front

of them and a plate of his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took one at once.

“Hagrid,” said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a

great personal wrong, “we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know.” Hagrid gave another great snort. Harry rather thought some bogeys

landed on the potatoes, and was inwardly thankful that they were not staying for dinner.

“We did!” said Hermione. “But none of us could fit it into our schedules!”

“Yeah. Righ',” said Hagrid again.

There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around: Hermione let out a tiny shriek, and Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the

large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing.

“What are they, Hagrid?” asked Harry, trying to sound interested rather than revolted, but putting down his rock cake all the same.

“Jus’ giant grubs,” said Hagrid.

“And they grow into...?” said Ron, looking apprehensive.

“They won’ grow inter nuthin',” said Hagrid. “I got ‘em ter feed ter Aragog.”

And without warning, he burst into tears.

“Hagrid!” cried Hermione, leaping up, hurrying around the table the long way to avoid the barrel of maggots, and putting an arm around his shaking shoulders. “What

is it?”

“It's... him...” gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. “It's... Aragog... I think he's dyin'... He got ill over the

summer an’ he's not gettin’ better... I don’ know what I'll do if he... if he... We've bin tergether so long...”

Hermione patted Hagrid's shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. Harry knew how she felt. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a

teddy bear, seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stingers, attempt to reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most

incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, who dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which he and Ron had only narrowly

escaped four years previously.

“Is there—is there anything we can do?” Hermione asked, ignoring Ron's frantic grimaces and head-shakings.

“I don’ think there is, Hermione,” choked Hagrid, attempting to stem the flood of his tears. “See, the rest o’ the tribe ... Aragog's family... they're gettin’ a

bit funny now he's ill... bit restive ...”

“Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them,” said Ron in an undertone.

“... I don’ reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo',” Hagrid finished, blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. “But

thanks fer offerin', Hermione... It means a lot.”

After that, the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither Harry nor Ron had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan

spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted that they would have liked to have done and became his usual self once more.

“Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yer timetables,” he said gruffly, pouring them more tea. “Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners —”

“We couldn't have done,” said Hermione. “We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there last summer. It was in the Daily Prophet.”

“Ar, well then,” said Hagrid. “There's no way yeh could've done it... I'm sorry I've bin—yeh know—I've jus’ bin worried about Aragog ... an I did wonder whether,

if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin’ yeh —”

At which all three of them stated categorically and untruthfully that Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with

the result that by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.

“I'm starving,” said Harry, once the door had closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; he had abandoned the rock cake after an

ominous cracking noise from one of his back teeth. “And I've got that detention with Snape tonight, I haven't got much time for dinner.”