“Who goes ere?”
“Hagrid, it’s Belinda,” said the tall fifth year through the front door of the rumpled down shack at the corner of the forest.
“Belle?” came the response, just seconds before the door to Hagrid’s cabin swung open. Although tall and muscular for her age, Belle was dwarfed by the great bear of a man that stood in front of her, with great mats of hair framing his face and flowing over the shoulders of his old tattered moleskin coat.
“There ya are!” said Hagrid as he reached down and took Belle into a great bone crushing hug. “A’righ there, Belle?”
“I was ‘til a minute ago,” gasped Belinda.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” said Hagrid sheepishly as he relinquished his grip. “What ya doin’ down here? Shouldn’ ya be in class?”