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Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was.
Hermione, I know you'd have liked him.
It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this evening.
I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day.
I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak.
Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.
Hagrid "Look at this," said Harry, handing the note to Hermione. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous. "He's mental" he said furiously. "That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!" "Its not just that," said Hermione. "He's asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught." "We've been down to see him by night before," said Harry.
"Yes, but for something like this." said Hermione. "We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all — Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him —" "— I'd want to go even less," said Ron firmly. "You didn't meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot." Harry took the note back and stared down at all the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment. . . .
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