|
|
|
|
Once again, I don't own it. Jo Rowling does. This is your brain. This is your brain having to repeat the same obvious thought over and over and over. Smash. Any questions?
Neville, in the end, decided to say nothing. After a few hours in the Room of Requirement, when Hermione had fallen asleep, he showed up and announced that he didn't want to tell anyone, because, in the end, she had helped him, but he didn't know if it wouldn't be safer for her if maybe he said something after all – the Ministry would eventually hunt down someone who was going after people using the Cruciatus Curse, after all. Harry and Ron assured him that they were convinced that Hermione's actions had been a one-time thing, and Neville decided to say nothing so long and Hermione stayed away from him. Neither Harry or Ron could blame him for that condition, even though Harry felt that Neville was being overly generous in his treatment of Hermione.
They spent the next few days trying to keep an eye on Hermione at all times. She was more than willing to keep them around, not seeming to trust herself to do anything without an escort. Neither of them had any reason to believe that she was going to hurt anyone again, but they were alert for signs that she was heading in that direction, just in case. This meant that all three of them were effectively separated from Neville most of the time.
This found them avoiding the areas of the school they had been populating most when Neville was there. They ate before or after most others, went to the library when they knew Neville was busy, and tried to stay outside, where there was plenty of space to avoid each other, during the day.
One day, when they were sitting by the lake, studying, Harry looked up and saw that there was smoke coming from Hagrid's chimney. Abruptly, he realized that in the time since they had been back at Hogwarts, they had not gone to see Hagrid once. He looked over at Ron and Hermione, who were sitting fairly peacefully and decided to make a quick trip alone. “I'll be right back, guys,” he said.
His only response was a vague grunt from Ron.
Running quickly, Harry ran across the lawn to the cabin where Hagrid lived. It had been rebuilt since it had been burned down at the end of the previous school year, and looked considerably nicer than it had previously. The building looked newer, and bigger.
Hagrid took a while to answer his door. Harry had almost given up before it creaked open and a huge shaggy head peered out. “Harry?” asked Hagrid, “what're you doin' here?”
“I'm just here to see you,” said Harry. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Come in,” said Hagrid. He opened the door all the way and walked off toward his kitchen.
“It looks good in here,” said Harry. When the cabin had been burned, it had barely been standing. Now the whole thing was repaired.
“McGonagall came down the day y'all left to fix it,” Hagrid told him. “She put it to rights.” He pulled his teakettle out and set it on the stove.
Harry looked around guiltily. How could he have left Hagrid alone all this time? With all the students gone, of course Hagrid would be lonely – the cabin showed signs of inhabitation by more animals than Harry would have believed possible. Not only was there a box of baby Blast-Ended Skrewts, but a cage containing what looked like a cross between a salamander and a chicken, and a few bowtruckles running around the floor snacking on fairly eggs that were liberally strewn around.
“What're you doing with the bowtruckles?” he asked Hagrid, looking for something to say.
“Oh, they're right useful!” Hagrid told him. “It turns out they're one of the easiest animals to crossbreed. An' they can take care of themselves pretty well... it should be interestin' to see what we come up with when I've had a bit o' fun.”
Harry repressed a shudder. Bowtruckles weren't exaxtly harmless before they were crossbred with Acromantulas or some other thing, it didn't seem likely that they would be any more pleasant after Hagrid had done whatever he was planning to do.
Hagrid poured out two cups of tea and set them on the table. Harry sat down in front of one of them and ignored the plate of rock cakes in the middle of the table.
“So, Harry,” asked Hagrid, “What're you doing tha's kept you from visiting all year?”
Harry stared at his tea akwardly. “Nothing, really,” he answered, then felt the need to rephrase that. “A lot of stuff.”
“Dumbledore kept his secrets, didn't he?” asked Hagrid. “Always cookin' up something...” he took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Yeah,” said Harry, thinking of what he had seen in Snape's mind. “But I think he had a good reason.”
Hagrid squinted at him. “I know you won't tell anyone where you were or what you were doin', but you let me know if I can help. I promised him I'd always help him if he asked, and now... if I can help you, you jus' tell me.”
Harry looked Hagrid right in his beetle-black eyes and wished for the thousandth time that he didn't have to be doing this at all. “I promise,” Hagrid, “if you can help me, I'll let you.” He wanted to say more, but he wasn't sure what more there was to say.
Fang, Hagrid's black boarhound, wandered over to Harry and rested his head on Harry's knee, drooling all over his leg like always. “I s'pose,” said Hagrid, “That you'll be going after You-Know-Who soon.”
Harry nodded silently.
“You shouldn't,” Hagrid continued. “S'not your place. Should've been Dumbledore's, but now... maybe McGonagall... Anyway, s'not your job, Harry.”
Harry looked down at the table again. “Yes,” he whispered, “it is. That's why Dumbledore was taking me along on his mission the night he died. He wanted me to be a part of preparing to kill Voldemort, because it is my job.”
Hagrid flinched back as if struck. “Harry... you can't know that. Now, I know yeh've had some bad luck... dunno how he keeps finding you.... but you can't think that just because he wants to kill you, yeh'll be the one who has to do it. No, it'll be McGonagall, or maybe Moody.”
Harry shook his head. “I don't want to do it...but, Hagrid, there was a prophecy that says I have to.” He left out the rest of what the prophecy said. No need to make things worse.
“Says who!” bellowed Hagrid. “You're gonna trust some crackpot who says they heard -”
“Dumbledore,” said Harry, looking Hagrid right in the eyes.
Hagrid's face crumpled. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “Dumbledore kept his secrets, didn't he.” He sighed. “Harry-” he began, but he was cut off when Ginny ran into the hut.
“Hagrid!” she cried. “Oh Harry!” She ran to him and threw her arms around him. “There's just been a Floo from Mum. Voldemort attacked the ministry. It's been completely destroyed.”
A/N: This chapter was originally supposed to be much more Hagrid-centric than it has been, but I sort of abandoned that when I realized that it wasn't really coming together. So now we have this, which, I think, is pretty good. Now that it's written, I may right a more Hagrid-centered companion piece in the future, because I really don't feel like I've done the character justice.
bravenet.com