CHAPTER TWELVE
money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you
leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a
palace compared to what your family’s used to.”
Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
“WEASLEY!”
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes.
“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his
huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his
family.”
“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,”
said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be
grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scat-
tering needles everywhere and smirking.
“I’ll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one
of these days, I’ll get him —”
“I hate them both,” said Harry, “Malfoy and Snape.”
“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell
yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”
So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the
Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick
were busy with the Christmas decorations.
“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?”
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe
hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christ-
mas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles,
some glittering with hundreds of candles.
“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked.
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