Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.
“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward —”
“DON’T —” screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them — “CALL ME COWARD!”
And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had flown at Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him. As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching as Harry had never heard him screech —
Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew it would be too late, and sure enough, by the time he had located his wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had managed to Disapparate just beyond the school’s boundaries.
“Hagrid,” muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. “HAGRID?”
He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of thankfulness, Harry sank to his knees; he was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.
“Yeh all righ’, Harry? Yeh all righ’? Speak ter me, Harry. . . .”
Hagrid’s huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Fang’s reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside him.
“I’m all right,” panted Harry. “Are you?”
“’Course I am . . . take more’n that ter finish me.”
Hagrid put his hands under Harry’s arms and raised him up with such force that Harry’s feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set him upright again. He could see blood trickling down Hagrid’s cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.
“We should put out your house,” said Harry, “the charm’s ‘Aguamenti’ . . .”
“Knew it was summat like that,” mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, “Aguamenti!”
A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and murmured “Aguamenti” too: Together, he and Hagrid poured water on the house until the last flame was extinguished.
“S’not too bad,” said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. “Nothin’ Dumbledore won’ be able to put righ’ . . .”
Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.
“Hagrid . . .”
“I was bindin’ up a couple o’ bowtruckle legs when I heard ’em comin’,” said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. “They’ll’ve bin burnt ter twigs, poor little things. . . .”
“Hagrid . . .”
“But what happened, Harry? I jus’ saw them Death Eaters runnin’ down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin’ with ’em? Where’s he gone — was he chasin’ them?”
“He . . .” Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. “Hagrid, he killed . . .”
“Killed?” said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. “Snape killed? What’re yeh on abou’, Harry?”
“Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Snape killed . . . Dumbledore.”
Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending.
“Dumbledore wha’, Harry?”
“He’s dead. Snape killed him. . . .”
“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape kill Dumbledore — don’ be stupid, Harry. Wha’s made yeh say tha’?”
“I saw it happen.”
“Yeh couldn’ have.”
“I saw it, Hagrid.”
Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic, and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, that he was confused, perhaps by the aftereffects of a jinx. . . .
“What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said confidently. “I suppose he’s gotta keep his cover. Look, let’s get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry. . . .”
Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon. . . . As they directed their steps back toward the castle, Harry saw that many of its windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have been killed. . . .