At lunch, the early autumn sunlight streamed through the high, pointed stained-glass windows of the Great Hall, spreading broad patches of mottled pale gold across the Hufflepuff table.
Justin pushed his empty plate aside, leaned forward, and planted both elbows heavily on the edge of the table.
"You were too far away this morning to see properly."
This was already the fourth time he had brought up Buckbeak that day.
Every telling came with fresh details.
"You didn't see him turn! You could have laid out lunch on his back without spilling a drop of soup. Gavin could've finished eating before he got off."
Justin placed his cup on his empty plate and turned it halfway around, supporting it from underneath.
"Just like this. He didn't dare tilt even a little—"
Pumpkin juice sloshed over the rim of the cup and splashed onto the table.
Ernie snatched away his open parchment notebook and said irritably:
"Sounds like he's a lot steadier than you."
Justin set the plate back on the table and shook his wet hand.
"It was even crazier after they landed. Gavin hadn't even got off before he knelt down for him."
Ernie flipped to the latest page in his notebook.
"You missed one. He'd already knelt before takeoff. That was the second time."
Justin took out his wand and cleaned the pumpkin juice off the table.
"Tsk, tsk. Hagrid said he had a bad temper. I reckon he's just picky about people."
A fifth-year boy eating an apple beside them laughed.
"Sounds like he's pretty fond of Gavin, then."
Rolf had been bent over his stewed beef, but at this, his fork stopped in midair, and he couldn't resist objecting:
"That wasn't fondness at all. He was too frightened to hold himself up."
Ernie turned his notebook