CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They looked at one another.
“We’ve got the Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “It shouldn’t be
too difficult — I think the cloak’s big enough to cover two of us
and Norbert.”
It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two
agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy.
There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron’s bitten hand had
swollen to twice its usual size. He didn’t know whether it was safe
to go to Madam Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By
the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a
nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert’s fangs were poisonous.
Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end
of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.
“It’s not just my hand,” he whispered, “although that feels like
it’s about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to
borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh
at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I’ve
told her it was a dog, but I don’t think she believes me — I
shouldn’t have hit him at the Quidditch match, that’s why he’s do-
ing this.”
Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.
“It’ll all be over at midnight on Saturday,” said Hermione, but
this didn’t soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright
and broke into a sweat.
“Midnight on Saturday!” he said in a hoarse voice. “Oh no —
oh no — I’ve just remembered — Charlie’s letter was in that book
Malfoy took, he’s going to know we’re getting rid of Norbert.”
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