if the beast only just died it might

if the beast only just died it might not yet have dried out... of course, I wouldn't want to do anything insensitive if Hagrid is upset... but if there was any way to

procure some ... I mean, it's almost impossible to get venom from an Acromantula while it's alive...”

Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself than Harry now.

“... seems an awful waste not to collect it... might get a hundred Galleons a pint... to be frank, my salary is not large...”

And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done.

“Well,” he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, “well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Hagrid would probably be really pleased... give Aragog a better send-off,

you know ...”

“Yes, of course,” said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. “I tell you what, Harry, I'll meet you down there with a bottle or two... we'll drink the

poor beast's—well — not health—but we'll send it off in style, anyway, once it's buried. And I'll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion...”

He bustled back into the castle, and Harry sped off to Hagrid's, delighted with himself.

“Yeh came,” croaked Hagrid, when he opened the door and saw Harry emerging from the Invisibility Cloak in front of him.

“Yeah—Ron and Hermione couldn't, though,” said Harry. “They're really sorry.”

“Don'—don’ matter... He'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry...”

Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen. Harry

patted him consolingly on the elbow, which was the highest point of Hagrid he could easily reach.

“Where are we burying him?” he asked. “The forest?”

“Blimey, no,” said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt. “The other spiders won’ let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog's gone. Turns

out it was only on his orders they didn’ eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?”

The honest answer was “yes"; Harry recalled with painful ease the scene when he and Ron had come face-to-face with the aeromantulas. They had been quite clear that

Aragog was the only thing that stopped them from eating Hagrid.

“Never bin an area o’ the forest I couldn’ go before!” said Hagrid, shaking his head. “It wasn’ easy, gettin’ Aragog's body out o’ there, I can tell yeh—they

usually eat their dead, see... but I wanted ter give ‘im a nice burial... a proper send-off...”

He broke into sobs again and Harry resumed the patting of his elbow, saying as he did so (for the potion seemed to indicate that it was the right thing to do),

“Professor Slughorn met me coming down here, Hagrid.”

“Not in trouble, are yeh?” said Hagrid, looking up, alarmed. “Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the evenin', I know it, it's my fault —”

“No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he'd like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too,” said Harry. “He's gone to change into something more

suitable, I think... and he said he'd bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog's memory...”

“Did he?” said Hagrid, looking both astonished and touched. “Tha's—tha's righ’ nice of him, that is, an’ not turnin’ yeh in either. I've never really had a lot

ter do with Horace Slughorn before... comin’ ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well... he'd've liked that, Aragog would...”

Harry thought privately that what Aragog would have liked most about Slughorn was the ample amount of edible flesh he provided, but he merely moved to the rear window

of Hagrid's hut, where he saw the rather horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled.

“Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?”