¡°It all depends on the points ¡ª a margin of a hundred either way ¡ª¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Beaky!¡± said Hagrid huskily.
By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor halt, very close to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside.
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