THE MAN
WITH TWO FACES
After a good night’s sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.
“I want to go to the feast,” he told Madam Pomfrey as she
straightened his many candy boxes. “I can, can’t I?”
“Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go,” she said
sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn’t
realize how risky feasts could be. “And you have another visitor.”
“Oh, good,” said Harry. “Who is it?”
Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he
was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down
next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.
“It’s — all — my — ruddy — fault!” he sobbed, his face in his
hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was
the only thing he didn’t know, an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All
fer a dragon egg! I’ll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’
made ter live as a Muggle!”
“Hagrid!” said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief
and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. “Hagrid, he’d
have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we’re talking about,
he’d have found out even if you hadn’t told him.”
“Yeh could’ve died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’ say the name!”
“VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked,
he stopped crying. “I’ve met him and I’m calling him by his name.
Please cheer up, Hagrid, w e saved the Stone, it’s gone, he can’t use
it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I’ve got loads. . . .”
Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “That
reminds me. I’ve got yeh a present.”
“It’s not a stoat sandwich, is it?” said Harry anxiously, and at last
Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.
303