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." Said Ron and Hermione from either side of him.
"This is all my fault. I said the name. I'm sorry -"
"Harry?"
It was a new, but familiar voice. and it came from directly behind Harry, from the person tied to Hermione's left.
"Dean?"
He crouched down beside Harry, who saw, through the infinitesimal gap left between his swollen eyelids, a face covered in matted gray hair and whiskers, with pointed brown teeth and sores in the corners of his mouth. Greyback smelled as he had done at the top of the tower where Dumbledore had died: of dirt, sweat, and blood.
"It is you! If they find out who they've got -! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold -"
"Not a bad little haul for one night." Greyback was saying, as a pair of hobnailed boots marched close by Harry and they heard more crashes from inside the tent. "A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and these truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?" he roared.
"Yeah. There's no Vernon Dudley un 'ere, Greyback."
"Interesting," said Greyback. "That's interesting."
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