There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Harry suggested we all go together as we hung out in the common room together. Hermione was very surprised that he wanted to go.
"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she said. "Really get to work on that egg."
"Oh I — I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now," Harry said.
A cold tingle ran up my spine. Lie. I raised an eyebrow at Harry from where I was sitting on the other side of Hermione.
"Have you really?" said Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done!"
I narrowed my eyes at Harry as Hermione looked back down at her book; the boy gave a guilty squirm.
"Look," He told me later, "I still have five weeks to work out that egg clue, after all, and that's ages. "Besides, if I go into Hogsmeade, I might run into Hagrid, and get a chance to persuade him to come back."
"It's your choice, Harry," I said, shrugging. "But I think you'll regret procrastinating on it later. You really can't afford to be the only person who doesn't know what you're supposed to be doing."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luke, and I left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As we passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, we saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He was very skinny, but apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived, right into the lake.
"Ohhhhkay," I said, shivering just at the thought of doing such a thing.
"He's mad!" said Harry, staring at Krum's dark head as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. "It must be freezing, it's January!"
"It's a lot colder where he comes from," said Hermione. "I suppose it feels quite warm to him."
"I could never," Luke insisted. "Even at in the winter Chiron does this spell on the camp to make it nice and warm and sunny."
"It never snows there?"
"Nope," I said. "No rain, no snow, no weather, not unless Chiron decides he wants it to happen." I looked at Krum. "Seriously, this guy, though!"
"Not to mention the giant squid," said Ron. He didn't sound anxious — if anything, he sounded hopeful. Hermione noticed his tone of voice and frowned.
"He's really nice, you know," she said. "He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me."
Ron said nothing. He hadn't mentioned Viktor Krum since the ball, and honestly as long as he didn't blow up at Hermione about it again, I was fine with it.
Harry kept a lookout for a sign of Hagrid all the way down the slushy High Street and suggested a visit to the Three Broomsticks once he'd determined that Hagrid was not in any of the shops.
The pub was as crowded as ever, but one quick look around at all the tables told me that Hagrid wasn't there. I noticed Harry slump in disappointment and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"We'll find him later," I assured him, speaking over the buzz of chatter in the pub.
We went up to the bar with Ron, Luke, and Hermione, then ordered five butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta.
"Might just as well have stayed behind and listened to the egg wailing after all," I heard Harry mutter to himself.
"We'll find him, Harry, and he'll be glad that someone cares about him in the middle of all of this," I said.
"Doesn't he ever go into the office?" Hermione whispered suddenly. "Look!" She pointed into the mirror behind the bar.
At first I thought she was talking about Hagrid, but I looked at the mirror and saw Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing.
"That looks shady," I commented. It was pretty weird that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. I watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking strained again, quite as strained as he had that night in the forest before the Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up.
"In a moment, in a moment!" I heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place.
"Harry!" he said. "How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"
"Fine, thanks," said Harry.
"Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry?" said Bagman eagerly. "You couldn't give us a moment, could you?" He added to Hermione, Ron, Luke and I.
I wasn't exactly eager to leave Harry behind with some random Ministry worker we barely knew, but if he was planning on trying to mess with Harry in any way, it would be extremely stupid of him to do it in the middle of a popular and very crowded pub.
"Er — okay," said Ron, and we went off to find a table. Bagman led Harry along the bar to the end furthest from Madam Rosmerta and began talking to him urgently, though he was clearly trying to appear cheerful and lighthearted.
"Shady," I muttered. And desperate. What could Bagman want from Harry so badly?
"It really is," Luke agreed. "He's one of the judges, right? Is he supposed to be having one-on-one time with Harry like this? Not that I don't think Harry should have all the help he can get, but —"
"No, no, you're right," Hermione said. "It is quite suspicious."
Bagman and Harry talked for a bit before Fred and George showed up. That was also shady — Bagman had seemed so cheerful and amiable with the twins at the World Cup, and now he was avoiding them like the plague? Bagman then nodded to Harry, looking thoroughly disappointed, and left the pub in a hurry. The goblins he'd been with all slid off their chairs and exited after him. Harry made his way to the table where we were sitting.
"What did he want?" Ron asked the moment Harry had sat down.
"He offered to help me with the golden egg," said Harry.
"He shouldn't be doing that!" said Hermione, looking very shocked. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out — haven't you?"
"Er... nearly," said Harry, glancing at me. I rolled my eyes as that cold tingle ran up my spine again.
"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat!" said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving. "I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"
"He's not, I asked," said Harry.
"Who cares if Diggory's getting help?" said Ron.
"Those goblins didn't look very friendly," said Hermione, sipping her butterbeer. "What were they doing here?"
"Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman," said Harry. "He's still ill. Hasn't been into work."
"Maybe Percy's poisoning him," said Ron. "Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"Ron, don't joke about things like that," I told him, rolling my eyes again.
Hermione frowned. "Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch... They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though, right?" said Luke, remembering what I'd told him. "Maybe they need an interpreter."
"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?"
"You're really choosing death today, aren't you?" I mumbled into my mug.
"Ha, ha, ha," said Hermione sarcastically. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"
"No," said Harry and Ron together.
"Binns is boring," Luke said. "I can't even get through the first five minutes without falling asleep."
Harry and Ron grinned appreciatively at Luke. Personally I agreed, but I wasn't going to say that in front of Hermione.
"Well, they're quite capable of dealing with wizards," said Hermione, taking another sip of butterbeer. "They're very clever. They're not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves."
"Uh-oh," said Luke, staring at the door. "Look who's here."
Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. I frowned at her as she sat down, and when I looked over at my friends I could see their expressions mirroring mine.
Rita Skeeter was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.
"...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights... what nonsense... he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo — we just need to find a story to fit it —"
"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" said Harry loudly.
A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.
"Harry!" she said, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join—?"
"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"
Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows. "Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my—"
"That's hippogriff dung," I snapped. "Who caresif he's half-giant?"
"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with him!" Harry shouted.
The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.
Rita Skeeter's smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"
I was about to say, No, but I bet he'd call you an annoying cow when Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade.
"You horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you? Anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman —"
"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl ... not that it needs it —" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.
I stood up next to Hermione, furious that Rita Skeeter had called Hermione of all people a silly girl. "We understand a lot more than you think. The minute you fail to dig up something exciting about someone even vaguely important is the moment your career ends, and personally?" I laughed humorlessly. "I think that's something a lot of people are hoping for. I can't see everything the future holds, but from where I'm standing, yours looks about as bright as a funeral."
I felt hand on my shoulder and looked around to see Luke trying not to smile.
"Let's go," he said, "c'mon. Harry — Ron..."
We left; many people were staring at us as we went. I glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table.
"She'll be after you two next," said Luke to Hermione and I in a worried voice as we walked quickly back up the street.
"Let her try!" said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid..."
"I feel you, Hermione," I said. "I don't care what that annoying Skeeter — you know, that's how people in the Deep South of the US say mosquito, it's rather fitting, isn't it? Mosquitos are loud and pesky, Rita Skeeter is loud and pesky... I'm going to start calling her Miss Mosquito from now on — anyway, I don't care what Miss Mosquito writes about me. And d'you know why? Ask me why, Luke."
"Why."
"Because pesky Miss Mosquito doesn't know squat about me!" I exclaimed, grinning and putting my hands on my hips. "And I don't really even have a reputation to ruin, anyway, so even if she did dig up something worth writing about, it wouldn't really matter in the first place."
"Exactly!" Hermione agreed. "She can write, but it won't be the truth."
"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," said Ron nervously. "I'm serious — Hermione — Ash — she'll dig up something on you —"
"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all we could do to keep up with her.
The last time I had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had punched Draco Malfoy in the face. Part of me hoped we'd run into him so she'd do it again — stupid little ferret deserved it for what he told Rita about Hagrid. And if Hermione didn't do it, I would have no problem decking him myself.
"And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore," Hermione continued. "He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"
Breaking into a run, she led us all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The curtains were still drawn, and I could hear Fang barking as we approached.
"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid!"
"Yeah, you can't let that loud, pesky Skeeter — Mosquito — woman do this to you!" I yelled.
"Hagrid!" Hermione practically bellowed, "Get out here, you're just being —"
The door opened.
"Great," I said. "About ti—" I cut myself off abruptly as I found myself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.
"Oh, boy," Luke muttered.
"Good afternoon," Dumbledore said pleasantly, smiling down at us.
"We — uh — we wanted to see Hagrid," I said in the smallest of voices.
"Yes, I surmised as much," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you come in?"
"Oh... um... okay," I said.
We went into the cabin; Fang launched himself onto Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fended off Fang with Luke's help as I looked around.
Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.
"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.
Hagrid looked up.
"'Lo," he said in a very hoarse voice.
"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, closing the door behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luke, and I. He drew out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger and Miss McKeon were shouting, Hagrid?"
Hermione went slightly pink. I covered my face with my hands in utter embarrassment. I could not believe I went banging on Hagrid's door and shouting insults about Rita Skeeter. I felt Luke pat my back, and when I looked up at him, he was once again trying not to laugh at me.
Dumbledore smiled at Hermione and I and continued, "Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ash, and Luke still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."
"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor," he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore.
"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. I snorted before I could stop myself.
"Er — right," said Harry sheepishly. "I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that — woman — wrote about you?"
Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.
"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —"
"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan me ter stay."
"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"
"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!" said Hagrid croakily.
"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!"
"Better yet, look at me!" I exclaimed. "My dad is an escaped convict charged with mass murder!"
"An excellent point," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."
"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione quietly, "please come back, we really miss you."
Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.
Dumbledore stood up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."
Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fangs ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, "Great man, Dumbledore...great man...."
"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"
"Help yerself," said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ar, he's righ', o' course — yeh're all righ'... I bin stupid... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'..." More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, "Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."
Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth — he looked hardly older than eleven.
"Tha was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year..."
"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable."
I frowned. If Dumbledore really cared that much about second chances, why hadn't he and Chiron given me a second chance to explain things to Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Better yet, why hadn't he, knowing full well that Sirius was innocent when he went into Azkaban, why hadn't he tried harder to prove him innocent? Why hadn't he pushed for a trial under that truth potion... Verita-something? And last year, when Sirius was going to be administered the Dementor's Kiss, why hadn't Dumbledore said or done something then? He'd told us that he didn't have that much influence on Fudge and his people, but I knew Dumbledore was more than capable of being persuasive when he wanted to be.
So why didn't he want to be?
I couldn't trust him when he wasn't willing to help Sirius, when he wasn't willing to help me. He was expecting me, a teenager, to keep a huge secret that involved the immortal beings who run the universe, and for what purpose? Chiron had been upfront with his reasons: he didn't want the wrong people knowing about it. But I had no idea what Dumbledore's motives were.
Green fog clouded around the corner of my eye, but I hurriedly blinked it away. Now was not the time for a vision. I was trying to concentrate on... wait, what was I concentrating on?
Oh, right. Hagrid and that dumb Mosquito lady.
Hagrid was still talking. " 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones...I'll give her big bones."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luke, and I looked at one another nervously. I was willing to bet that Harry would rather have taken fifty Blast-Ended Skrewts for a walk than admit to Hagrid that he had overheard him talking to Madame Maxime, but Hagrid was still talking, apparently unaware that he had said anything odd.
"Yeh know wha, Harry?" he said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!" He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love. Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"
I smirked knowingly at Harry as a guilty look flashed across his face. He cleared his throat. "Great. Really great."
Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile. "Tha's my boy... you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."
"Of course Harry will win," Luke said. "He always does. If there was some great big prophecy about him, it would be like, Harry is the Chosen One of the Triwizard Tournament."
Hagrid and the rest of my friends grinned and laughed.
"The Chosen One," I muttered to myself. The green fog was settling in again. Not now, not now, it's not a good time.
"What, you don't think I am?" Harry asked, turning to smile at me. I barely registered his voice or his movement.
"Ash, are you alright?" Hermione asked. Wait, was that even Hermione? Or was it Luke? I couldn't tell anymore. It was just green fog and voices from the future forcing themselves into my head.
The future beckoned, and I had no choice but to see it.
Enjoy and comment for more!
~~~~ Kingfisher ~~~~