CHAPTER FIFTEEN
whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through
the widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew.
Harry looked sideways at Ron. His mouth was still open in the
silent scream, but his eyes weren’t popping anymore.
“Are you okay?”
Ron stared straight ahead, unable to speak.
They smashed their way through the undergrowth, Fang howl-
ing loudly in the back seat, and Harry saw the side mirror snap off
as they squeezed past a large oak. After ten noisy, rocky minutes,
the trees thinned, and Harry could again see patches of sky.
The car stopped so suddenly that they were nearly thrown into
the windshield. They had reached the edge of the forest. Fang flung
himself at the window in his anxiety to get out, and when Harry
opened the door, he shot off through the trees to Hagrid’s house,
tail between his legs. Harry got out too, and after a minute or so,
Ron seemed to regain the feeling in his limbs and followed, still
stiff-necked and staring. Harry gave the car a grateful pat as it re-
versed back into the forest and disappeared from view.
Harry went back into Hagrid’s cabin to get the Invisibility
Cloak. Fang was trembling under a blanket in his basket. When
Harry got outside again, he found Ron being violently sick in the
pumpkin patch.
“Follow the spiders,” said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his
sleeve. “I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive.”
“I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,” said
Harry.
“That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!” said Ron, thumping the wall
of the cabin. “He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re
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