"Goin' Home"
Lorry
Hagrid@GiantMail.com
Summary: Hagrid's two months at Azkaban, from Tria the Spryte's Point of View
(A little angsty)
Characters: Tria, Hagrid, Dumbledore, the usual...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or his magical realm. Hagrid is not mine. (No matter how many stars I wish on.) They belong to Warner Bros and JK Rowling. There is no intent to profit, only to entertain.
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"Lem'me in! Lem'me in, lem'me in, lem'me IN!"
Bare spryte feet kicked and tiny hands pummeled at a mysteriously unseen barrier that separated her from her one and only friend. Invisible, but strong, Tria had been attacking this obstruction for hours, trying by every means possible to penetrate its depths.
Illuminated by sporadic lightening flashes, the magical creature's appearance would have shocked any that knew her. Hair at all angles, wings tattered and beating hard against an unfriendly headwind, Tria looked nothing like the carefree spryte who spent most of her time at Hogwarts School, securely sheltered on the gamekeeper's shoulder. But this night had begun like none she'd ever imagined, and in the icy sea spray and sleet that pelted her now, she wondered if it would ever come to an end.
"Ha...grid!" She shouted, but the wind snatched the word out of her mouth and sent it spinning off to places where her friend would never hear it. She knew he was down there, somewhere below on that awful island in the middle of the North Sea. Somewhere in that unfathomable darkness... but her every attempt to get there was repulsed by something invisible, impenetrable, at least for someone as small as herself.
"Why?" She shouted angrily at her enemies; the wind, the sleet, the icy salt from the sea. "They know you done nothin' wrong! How can they think it's you what's hurtin' people down ta Hogwarts? Ya wasn't guilty fifty year ago, an' ya ain't guilty now. Lem'me in, Hagrid. Call off whatever ya got blockin' me from... from... Azkaban."
That one word alone had struck terror in Hagrid's heart. Even whispering it into a stormy night made Tria tremble. "Bad enough yer down there," she whined softly. "Ya coulda let me in and we coulda... we would at leas'... be down there... together."
Tria's wings continued to beat against the wind's current, her head bowed stubbornly into its blast. This magic was new to her. It was as if an invisible cube had suddenly enveloped Azkaban prison in its entirety. She'd flown at it from every imaginable angle, but was met with a wall of opposition each time. She couldn't understand what was keeping her out, but she knew who was responsible. She could sense Hagrid's stubborn resistance to her presence, even as she hovered in despair, wings limp and ragged. Her tears of frustration betrayed her, falling effortlessly through the barrier she herself could not pierce, mingling with the sleet and spray that drenched the barren rocks below.
"Hagrid... lem'me in," she murmured, pressing herself flat against whatever it was that prevented her from entering the prison as she should have; on the giant's shoulder, where she belonged. Time slowed for Tria, as her world became too surreal to comprehend. She watched her tears fall in slow motion. She could follow their silvery trail all the way down to their crashing point, as they hit the rocks and attempted their magic, but their ability to create new plant life was sucked away here, even as the first tendrils burst forth. This made for a fascinating display that the spryte watched; a tear fell, sprouts grew and then shriveled up to die. Another slid off her cheek to repeat this life and death cycle. Death was bent on winning here, Tria noted, as more tears dripped off her face and were carried off in a line slanted by the cold night wind.
There was no shelter here. No familiar treetops for the spryte to fly to or hide in for comfort. No -- at Azkaban there were only rocks and the sea. And rain, and sleet and separation from the one she loved. The injustice that had brought them to this place raged on in Tria's soul, and stubbornness as strong as only spryte-folk know it welled up within her. She remained where she was, high above Azkaban, flattened like an oversized dragonfly against an invisible window.
"I ain't givin' up," she muttered defiantly. The sun would be up soon and then she'd find Hagrid and convince him to let her come in.
She watched disconnectedly from above as the boats left. The same boats that had brought them here only hours before. Had it truly been a matter of hours since Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy had come to the cottage? A violent shiver racked Tria's body as she remembered the warmth of Hagrid's fire.
"May ya all drown in the waters of the great North Sea," she spat at the boats that bobbed precariously on turbulent waves. The spryte stood up and was immediately blown backward some ten feet before her wet wings could unfurl. Sore, soaked and defeated, she landed on an outcropping of rocks that jutted skyward just east of the prison entrance. Sinking into a crevice for shelter, Tria prepared to keep her vigil; waiting grimly outside Azkaban until she had the good fortune to lay eyes on Hagrid again. That Fudge fellow had mentioned a short stay, but with Dumbledore released as Headmaster at Hogwarts, and Hagrid in prison, Tria was sure of only one thing... nothing in her world was sure any longer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Far below in a cold slimy cell, Hagrid heard Tria's cries. Or maybe he felt them. In the utter darkness that surrounded him it was hard to be sure of much. He was sure that she couldn't follow him into Azkaban's darkness, though. Knew that as well as he knew the skritching sounds he'd been hearing all night belonged to rats, and likely they were big ones. Rats were the least of Hagrid's worries though. They could even come in handy later.
He'd wandered around his cell enough times to almost see it in his head. It was square and small, without a bed or even a chair to rest in. The lowness of the ceiling made it impossible for the giant to straighten up without knocking himself in the head. His back was already aching from being forced to lean forwards, and he figured he'd only been on the inside of this place a matter of hours. The cell floor was rock, the walls were rock and there weren't any windows. No openings here at all, save the front of the cell, which was heavily fortified with thick bars of iron. 27 of them. Hagrid had counted them seventeen times since the guards had slammed them in his face.
The dampness of the surroundings had created an amazing place for slime to flourish, though. Hagrid imagined it to be black, and thicker than flobberworm mucus. He wondered if the morning sun would even attempt to penetrate this darkness.
"This ain't no place fer a spryte," he muttered, the sound of his voice causing a fresh pattering of clawed feet as the rats scattered in fear.
"Tria, go home."
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The sun never really shines over Azkaban prison. The sky lightens to a dull gray; full of scudding clouds, but those clouds never break enough for even the bravest of sunbeams to penetrate. On her fifth day waiting for Hagrid at her post on the rock pinnacle, Tria decided that it never warmed up there, either.
Cold and hunger only added to her feeling of desolation, for there was no honey here. No flowers, no berries, none of the things she'd need to survive. The thought of leaving to find food went against the spryte's nature. By day seven, when the rat with its message came scampering toward her over the rocks, Tria was sorely tempted to do what it said. But Hagrid had made one little mistake in sending his message. He'd torn a strip from the tail of his shirt and stained it with something black to form two words:
"Go Home."
Tria clung to that scrap of fabric as if it were life itself. It was filthy and damp like everything at Azkaban, but it was Hagrid's. Written on anything else, the message could have moved her to obey, but the cloth she now held in her hands only strengthened her resolve to stay.
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The food inside the prison walls could barely be called that, although Hagrid managed to save some scraps for his new friends, the rats. He spent the time just after the Dementors delivered his meals imagining the feasts at Hogwarts. How he missed them! His imaginings only barely helped him get the thick gray stuff that passed for porridge past his lips and down his throat. He missed the company as well. And it only worried him to dwell on those left behind at Hogwarts. He didn't like to think what might be happening there without Professor Dumbledore in control of things. The Chamber re-opened, all those people attacked. And now Hermione was one of them. He'd seen things go bad before, like when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened the first time. That girl Myrtle had died, and everybody accusing him. He only hoped that Harry and Ron had figured out the clue he'd left just before Cornelius Fudge had drug him and Tria off to prison.
And Tria was just another thing to worry him, stuck underground as he figured he was. He knew she'd gone days without eating. It was one thing to be separated for a short time, but to lose her forever was not a happy thought. Hagrid shook his shaggy head. Seemed as though all his thoughts were unhappy, worried ones these days. Despair overshadowed him, as it never had before. He wondered if the black clad Dementors had anything to do with that. For the briefest moment he contemplated letting Tria in. Just for a little while. It'd be good to talk to her, even if she did go on about being left behind. A familiar voice would be a comfort. Then his eyes fell on a Dementor sliding past his cell. If they did feed on happy thoughts and contentment, then this was no place for a spryte. They'd know she was coming even before she could hurtle herself into the cell and onto his shoulder. No... It was better this way. He bent down and tore another strip off his shirt and began working on a second message. The black slime that covered the walls worked well to stain letters into the once white fabric, as soon as he could get over the feel of it. Hagrid had never been squeamish, but he kept the message short and to the point. He finished it up as the sky lightened on his tenth day in prison. The rats were only too happy, after licking up the remains of Hagrid's porridge, to follow Azkaban's intricate trail of drainage pipes to the outside where Tria snatched up Hagrid's message jealously.
"Get food," this one said.
It was a message she could live with.
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Three weeks went by before Tria finally caught sight of Hagrid. It was a moment that she knew she'd remember for the rest of her days. Two black clad figures that seemed to glide more than walk were leading him out into a courtyard. She flew toward him without thinking, only to be knocked nearly senseless by the barrier between them. Once her head cleared, she flew above him, feeling tears spring up behind her eyelids just at the knowledge that he was still alive.
She watched him look around, letting his eyes re-adjust to light. He looked pale and drawn, but he was walking under his own power, and Tria was nearly beside herself with joy.
"Hagrid!" She called out, getting as close to him as she could. There was still at least thirty feet of air between them, but she figured she could holler loud enough for him to hear.
"Lem'me in ya big..." Tria stopped dead as he looked her in the eye. He'd gone a shade paler and reached up toward her in a gesture that was more habit than anything. Glancing over his shoulder, he searched for the Dementors who'd brought him outside. He was sure they'd sense the energy exploding off the spryte and come after her, but they were not to be seen.
"Get yerself outa here," he hissed ineffectively. "Ya can't be seen 'round here. Go home."
"I ain't goin' home till you do," Tria countered, hovering high above him. Hagrid was shocked at her appearance. She was ghostly pale, with deep dark circles beneath her eyes that spoke of many sleepless, hungry nights. Her wings were so tattered and dirty that he wondered how she was staying in the air, and her hair was matted beyond any help a comb could give her. Hagrid felt himself seething with anger that the two of them had come to this pitiful state. He shook a fist at his friend.
"You go back to Hogwarts, Tria," he demanded. "And don't waste no time doin' it. Go get yerself some food an' rest." But even as he spoke he saw her tiny arms cross against her chest.
"Not till you do the same!" She shouted, shivering as a cold blast of wind swept her off course.
"And what if they never let me outa here?" Hagrid questioned.
"Then I'll stay, too."
"I got enough ta worry about without you up there starvin' and dyin' on me," Hagrid said.
"I ain't starvin' nor dyin'," Tria replied, but she grew silent as the Dementors came back, leading a few more prisoners outside to the courtyard.
"Go home," Hagrid repeated, only this time his look of panic was enough to send Tria back toward her rocks. "Come back with the owl they send with my release papers." The Dementors were converging on him, searching the sky above for whatever it was that was giving off such delicious energy.
Tria watched helplessly as one of the Dementors rose from the ground right toward her. The rocky prison ground left little to no cover. She had an idea that the barrier that kept her out of Azkaban was never created to keep anybody in. But something seemed to hinder its rise. As Tria held her breath, she watched the Dementor shake at something that clung to the hem of its black robe.
"The rats," she breathed, watching as no less than five massive rodents were lifted into the air on the end of the Dementor's robe.
"Go home!" Hagrid shouted again. "If the guards catch ya you're a goner. Come back with the owl, Tria. Dumbledore'll let ya."
"But Dumbledore's not there," she whispered, fear washing over her as one by one the giant rats fell off the slowly rising Dementor. It got closer, close enough for Tria to see that it had no face. It reached toward her with a skeletal arm, still moving slowly, blindly, but led by her conflicting emotions. Her horror only grew as she saw two more Dementors rise, these unhindered by rats.
"Hagrid!" Tria called out in panic, flitting this way and that to avoid being snatched out of the air.
"They can feel yer thoughts," Hagrid cautioned, but his words went unheard in Tria's attempt to evade the Dementors. He watched helplessly as they got closer, then Tria dodged, swerved, and circled back to where he stood.
"Go back ta Hogwarts and wait fer that owl," Hagrid told her, and this time she knew with a sinking heart that she'd have to obey. It was either leave now, or be consumed by the ever approaching demon guards.
"Will ya go?"
"Yes!" Tria spat angrily. "I'll be back though. Don't you worry none about that, Rubeus Hagrid. I'll be back. And when I get back here, they're lettin' you out an' I'm takin' you home."
She stared at him for as long as she dared, as if to memorize his every feature, then she was gone, heading south in the direction of Hogwarts. Hagrid's chest swelled with pride as he watched the Dementors attempt to follow, only to be brought up short by whatever it was that kept them within Azkaban's gates.
"Get yerself home, Tria," Hagrid muttered under his breath. "I won' be far behind."
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Hogwarts was a most welcome sight by the time Tria finally found the forbidden forest. It had taken her much longer to get back than she'd thought it would. Her wings were nearly useless. She'd flown in great big circles for almost two days before convincing herself to stop and allow them to heal. Even then she'd walked a while, so intent was she on getting back to Hogwarts and somehow making sure that Hagrid was released. She didn't know how she'd do it yet, but felt confident that there had to be a way. Anybody who knew anything would have to agree that Hagrid couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin. Maybe she could go back into his family history and prove it. Then all she'd have to do was find someone who'd listen long enough...
"Harry Potter," she spoke into the morning air. She'd seen the spires of Hogwarts castle that very morning, and was sure she'd make it by nightfall, if only her wings held out.
"Harry'll help me get Hagrid released," she reasoned aloud. "He's always helpin' Hagrid out of some tight spot or other." Visibly cheered, the spryte carried on, flying at only a fourth of her usual speed, and stopping often to feast on the flowers and berries that grew on the dark forest floor. She was on familiar ground now, at least. She encouraged herself with the thought that maybe as early as tomorrow she'd be going back to Azkaban prison and demanding Hagrid's release. No matter what Cornelius Fudge had to say about it.
"Shoulda thought a this sooner," she chided herself. "Coulda got him out long time ago."
But when Tria finally got to Hogwarts, she couldn't find Harry anywhere. She cruised around the castle looking, but did not set eyes on him or his friend Ron Weasley. She decided to go look in on Hermione in the hospital wing, but was quite disheartened by what she saw there. All those petrified humans lying motionless on their beds, just waiting for a cure to release them.
"They think Hagrid did this," she whispered, huge tears filling her eyes and falling to the floor. This time their magic was not hindered, and the tiny sprout of a rose bush began to unfurl at the foot of Hermione's bed.
"How could they...?"
"Fear, my dear little Tria."
The spryte turned at the sound of a most familiar voice.
"Professor Dumbledore, you're not...." she started, silenced by his upraised hand.
"Not supposed to be here?" The headmaster gave Tria a smile, although it never drove the sadness from his eyes. "So I have been told. There will never be a force powerful enough to make me truly leave Hogwarts. Not while there are students in danger here, I can assure you. I am afraid the school governors were ill advised to ask me to step down as Headmaster. I can only guess they were afraid. Fear causes us to do things we think we'd never do," he finished quietly.
"Like leave those we love behind prison walls," she said flatly, cursing herself for ever leaving Hagrid. If the Ministry truly thought him responsible for all the motionless bodies now resting in the infirmary, they might never let him go free.
"He's not..." she began helplessly.
"The Heir of Slytherin?" Dumbledore finished for her. "I know that, Tria. And you know it without being told, because your love believes the best of him. Hagrid will be free, soon. You may accompany the owl that takes his release papers to Azkaban. But I believe it would be best for you to regain your strength until that time arrives."
"How did you know...?" She asked, puzzled.
"About the owl?" Dumbledore returned, offering her a hand to rest in and heading toward his chambers. "I know many things," he smiled, touching her hair with a bony index finger. It went immediately straight, and regained its holographic sparkle. She felt a peculiar shiver as he stroked her tattered wings and they righted themselves, whole and strong again.
"I know it was love that kept you outside the walls of Azkaban." Dumbledore smiled as Tria sat up to protest.
"Yes, it was love. He didn't want to lose you to the Dementors."
"But he's not supposed to do magic," Tria countered. "You know that better than anybody."
"Hagrid's magic is much stronger than anyone knows, Katrianna. And this was magic of a completely different nature. Involuntary, perhaps. Reflex certainly. It seems that you have not plumbed the depths of Hagrid's love for you."
Tria's eyes met Dumbledore's, over his half moon spectacles. "I feel much better now," she blurted suddenly. "I need to get back there. Back to prison. I better..."
"You'd better stay right here with me," Dumbledore advised. He stopped momentarily before a twisted statue and whispered "Cream Cheese Danish." A door was then revealed. Tria sat back in the softness of the Headmaster's hand as they slowly climbed his spiral staircase. His skin felt like fine parchment, fragile, but with a strength underneath that spoke of the onslaught of years he'd already weatherd, and promised to withstand anything the years ahead might propose. The spryte had become so lost in the lines and nobility she'd found there in the palm of his hand, that she jumped when he spoke once more. "There is much more to this story that what you can see. All must come to an end before it can truly be finished."
Tria gave him a perplexed look at that last statement. She began to speak, but was stopped once again by the Headmaster's raised hand.
"Eat now. And sleep. Things will look much different here tomorrow. I'm afraid there is more sadness to come. Someone just may need your kind of comfort. Will you stay?"
She looked up, wonderingly. He was giving her the choice, the option to do as he asked, or follow her emotions. She hadn't expected such deference from the venerable wizard. It was no wonder Hagrid loved him.
"I will," she spoke humbly, deciding to trust his wisdom over her impulse. And she wasn't vaguely surprised to see a table set for her on top of his desk, nor was she amazed to find her cage had been Summoned to a place of prominence on the Headmaster's mantle. She accepted his hospitality, his honey and currants, and a tiny nip of his elderberry wine. And when the meal was over, and she was safe in her own familiar bed, a glimmer of hope that she hadn't felt in two month's time began to steal comfortingly over her. As long as she stayed in Dumbledore's care, everything would turn out fine. She was asleep by the time he peeked in on her, so she never saw the look of profound sadness on his face as he gazed down upon her. Never found out that he longed for sleep as unhindered as her own.
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"Rube... you'd better come look at this."
A voice long forgotten stole quietly into Tria's dreams as she slept in her cage on Professor Dumbledore's mantle. Her mind's eye saw a familiar kitchen, with cheery blue walls and homemade wooden furnishings. There was a lace doily on the table, its stitches crooked and uneven, yet it looked at home here, where half of the furniture seemed created to fit one size being, while the other half was obviously designed to hold persons of a much larger stature.
Tria knew she was in the dream, somewhere, but hadn't quite placed herself yet. It wasn't until a kind face loomed over her that she realized where she was. Tucked safe in a group of flowers on the table in the center of the room. The flowers were familiar, but even in her dream, Tria knew the rest was wrong. She didn't understand why it was wrong. She was too young. A newly emerged spryte. She pushed herself back into the depths of the may lily that was her birth flower, eyes widening with the first tremors of fear that she'd ever experienced as another face, this one enormous, peered down at her with happy, beetle black eyes.
What issit?" Came booming out of the mouth of the huge creature above her. She watched as it looked from her to the smaller face that she'd seen on first opening her eyes.
"Looks like some sort of fairy, or wood nymph, son. You picked it in the flowers for mum's birthday."
"Birthday flowers," the larger face said, its face nearly splitting in half in what Tria would know later as a grin. At the moment, she only felt sure that the thing above her was about to make her its next meal.
"Yes," the other face said, in a quieter tone. "For mum." The small one disappeared then, and Tria had to reposition herself to watch him walk to the other side of the room.
"It's mine then, right, Dad?" The huge one asked. "I picked the flowers. I keep the fairy. On'y fair, Dad?" He looked away from Tria toward the older man.
"I'll find a cage" he said, crossing the room to reach up and pat his son's arm affectionately. "Though she's not your usual pet. Are you sure you want to keep her? I see no fangs or pinchers. I doubt she'll grow any bigger than she is right now. Doesn't look the least bit venomous. I don't understand why you'd want..."
"I want'er." The big one interrupted, turning from Tria to face his dad. "Don' matter if she ain't like the other critters I caught. I picked the flowers. She's mine."
"She may be better off free, Rubeus. Some creatures die when kept in captivity."
"Mum was free," the being known as Rubeus said, turning to peer closely at his new pet. Tria saw sparkling tears form in his bright black eyes. His breath as he spoke again made her newly dried wings flutter against the may lily's waxy pink petals.
"She left us." he said. A tear dangled from the corner of his eye and threatened to give Tria her first bath. "I don't want this one gettin' away." He straightened up and wiped his eyes on the back of his shirt sleeve.
"Think she has a name, Dad?"
That was when Tria opened her mouth. She did have a name, and she did want to be free. And as past memory merged with present knowledge, Tria wanted more than anything else for Hagrid to remember her. To scoop her up in his massive hand and let her circle his head just one more time.
"I'm your spryte!" she spoke up, standing to her feet as spryte sparkles burst out around her feet in anticipation. "I'm Katrianna. Katrianna.... Katrianna."
Suddenly her own voice merged with another. The dream receded as sleep was pushed back by someone calling her name.
"Katrianna."
"Hagrid?" she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and jumping to her feet. Her heart did a tiny somersault at the thought of being with him once again. He'd been so close in her dream. So real. So alive, and only inches away. Even awake she could still remember those black eyes smiling down at her. His face had been different. Smooth and childish, but the eyes remained the same. But once awake she also knew that it wasn't Hagrid who'd called her. He couldn't have called and been heard from as far away as Azkaban. She stepped out of her ivy covered cage, the warmth of Hagrid's presence in her dream fading as she looked out on an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar furnishings. Professor Dumbledore stood before her, a sad smile on his face.
"I am sorry, no," he apologized. "I am not Hagrid. Would you still be willing to have breakfast with me, even though my name is Albus Dumbledore?"
Tria shook her head. Food was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. The dream had turned into a cruel joke, as she faced another long day in Dumbledore's quarters, separated from her most treasured friend.
"The honey is from the south of France," Dumbledore cajoled. "Where rumor has it they've had a dry and sunny summer. And I've come across some huckleberries. Hard to find, this time of year. I've heard they're quite tasty on praline scones."
Tria's stomach betrayed her, rumbling audibly in the silence of Dumbledore's rooms.
"It's settled then," he said, offering an outstretched hand to transport the spryte to his breakfast table. "And although I am perhaps your second choice for a dining companion, I will attempt to entertain you as best I can."
Tria sighed and took her place at a table of gold that stood in the midst of Dumbledore's breakfast spread, just left of a jar of orange marmalade. She had to admit the food was better here than down at Hagrid's hut, but she'd have given her wings to be eating rock cakes with the gamekeeper at that moment.
"Any word?" she asked hopefully, forming the words around a bite of praline scone.
"I have not heard from Fudge, no, Tria. No word as to when the Ministry will let Hagrid go free, I'm afraid."
"But why him?" Tria asked again. "Why'd anybody ever think Hagrid was Slytherin's heir? He was a Gryffindor. Surely the sortin' hat would'a known. Sorted him into his right house if he'd been one'a theirs."
"It was a more innocent time, Tria. Evil was far removed from us then. None of us sensed it. Then young Myrtle was killed, and panic ruled Hogwarts for a time. Those in charge were in need of a scapegoat."
"And Hagrid was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Tria finished. "I tole him to leave that spider alone. Gimme me the jitters it did, just ta be in the same room wi' it. He'd'a kep' it jus' fine in Gryffindor tower if I hadn't complained."
"And Tom Riddle would never have come upon his scapegoat." Dumbledore took the spryte's argument to its conclusion.
"Yes." Tria agreed flatly. "And we wouldn't have need ta be eatin' breakfast together, 'cuz everything would'a been back ta normal."
"Normal?" Dumbledore asked warmly. "Why, Hagrid would have graduated from Hogwarts, and perhaps moved on. To raise dragons in Romania, I'd imagine. No, Tria... I, for one, am happy he stayed on, even if his plans were changed. Do you know how much safer these grounds are because of his care? What a burden is removed from the other teachers and myself, in knowing that Hagrid's eye is watching over all of Hogwarts?"
Tria gazed on the wizard for a long moment, wondering exactly what life would have been like had Tom Riddle never accused Hagrid in the first place.
"I know his heart an' soul'r in this place, Professor," she finally agreed. "He takes his job serious, and he'd never... he'd never hurt anybody. I'd swear it to any who'd listen."
"Fear makes one stop listening, as we've learned," Dumbledore sighed, clapping his hands to magically clear off the table. He stood to his feet, bending down to look Tria in the eye.
"Now. I have reason to believe that this is going to be a momentous day. You are welcome to while it away with an ancient wizard, if you like. It seems as though Fawkes has grown quite attached to your presence here. Or.... Perhaps you'd enjoy flying about the tower?"
"Outside?" she asked, surprised that he'd allowed that option.
"Oh yes," Dumbledore smiled, spreading his arms out graciously. "While I am under house arrest, as it were, you, my dear, are free to go anywhere you wish. Perhaps you could fly about and find out a few things for me?"
Tria agreed happily. She understood the feeling of being caged better than anyone, and Albus soon had a more than willing accomplice. She listened to his instructions, then disappeared out the tower window, quite happy to have a new mission. The Hogwarts professors breathed a sigh of relief as well, happy to have such an accessible link to their Headmaster. Tria did her best to share Dumbledore's calm with them, all the while ignorant that his renewed presence was to be the peace before the storm.
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Tria was surprised to see so many teachers roaming the halls of Hogwarts. Yet even as she searched for familiar faces, she only once caught a glimpse of Harry Potter and his friend Ron. They were walking together, heads down, talking earnestly to one another. The sprtye hovered, watching for a moment, but the distance between them was too great. They mounted the steps to Gryffindor tower and disappeared before she could get close enough to catch their attention. She was in the middle of checking her overhead clearance, determined to use all her strength to catch the two young students, when she heard someone calling her name.
"Katrianna! I've been looking for you, everywhere. May I have a word?"
Tria watched as stern-faced Professor McGonagall saw her charges safely to their next class, then turned her way.
"I was just trying to catch Harry Potter," she began, but then she remembered that the only reason she was there at all was because she'd volunteered to help Professor Dumbledore. Helping him was, after all, helping Hogwarts. Tria shook herself a little so as to realign her priorities.
"Well," Professor McGonagall started. "I only need a moment. I've been hearing rumors..." She glanced quickly around her shoulder, then gave a tight smile.
"Would you accompany me to my office, please. There are only two sets of ears that need to hear this message. Yours and Professor Dumbledore's." Without waiting for Tria's reply, Professor McGonagall strode forward. The spryte had to use the burst of energry she'd meant for catching Harry Potter to now catch up with the rapidly disappearing Professor. She'd nearly caught up when the figure ahead of her stopped dead. Tria had to do some frantic backward wing rotations to slow her self down, but they were not enough. She managed to pull up just in time to catch Professor McGonagall's left shoulder. She tumbled forward, slowing to a stop just before she hit the wall ahead. She began to fly backwards even as her eyes focused on the speedily oncoming stones, this time crashing full force into McGonagall's chest. The witch sputtered, rubbing the point of contact along her collar bone, but her eyes never left a message that had been emblazoned on the wall before them.
"Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."
There was more, but Tria didn't bother to read it. She was too busy trying to understand the reaction on McGonagall's face. In all her years at Hogwarts the spryte was sure she'd never seen McGonagall cry, but now... her eyes, which darted frantically up and down the halls, looked much wetter than they'd ever been. She clasped and unclasped her hands and muttered something about a Weasley before finally turning to Tria.
"Go tell Albus," she commanded in a firmness that did not correspond with her overall state of agitation. "Tell him that the Heir of Slytherin has taken Ginny Weasley into the Chamber. Hurry, Tria. The Headmaster must know."
Frightened by the panic on McGonagall's face, Tria obeyed, flitting upward until she spied an open window. She was back in Dumbledore's chambers in only a matter of heartbeats.
"Professor!" she exclaimed as she came upon him, calmly stroking Fawkes the phoenix on his red-feathered chest. He turned toward her, dressed in his finest deep purple robes. Tria caught a look of utmost grief on his face, but it vanished as his eyes focused on her.
"Ginny Weasley, Professor," Tria managed, between breaths. She'd flown hard to get to Dumbledore's quarters, and fell most gratefully into his outstretched hand.
"What about Ginny Weasley, Tria?" The ancient wizard asked. Tria's heart sank at the heaviness in his voice.
"The Heir of Slytherin took 'er to the Chamber of Secrets. He left a message on the wall, right under where they foun' the old cat. Professor McGonagall's right terrified an'... an'' Tria stopped as her mind caught up with the words that flew out of her mouth.
"The Heir of Slytherin..." she repeated, slower this time.
Dumbledore strode to his desk, depositing Tria amidst a jumble of maps and charts, which he then began to gather and roll together.
"He's made another move, then," Dumbledore spoke, although Tria was not quite sure his comment was directed at her. "This had to happen, of course, but still, I..." He looked down at the spryte as if seeing her there for the first time.
"Ginny Weasley, did you say?" he asked softly as he finished clearing his desk. "The Weasley family is pureblood. Why would the Heir of Slytherin want her?"
Tria shrugged, suddenly feeling very small, as she always did when trouble loomed large around her. Any other time she'd have already retreated to her place on Hagrid's shoulder, but now...
"I don' know, Professor," she murmured, still not sure if Dumbledore was speaking to her or just thinking aloud. "But I guess..." She hesitated, afraid to say what was screaming inside her head. She understood that these were tragic happenings, but if the Heir of Slytherin was here... and Hagrid wasn't... She looked up at the Headmaster hopefully, but seeing the grim look upon his face, changed her mind and decided to keep her thoughts to herself.
"Would you be so kind as to fetch Professor McGonagall to my office, please, Tria?" Dumbledore asked finally. He straightened up to his full height, adjusting his sleeves ceremoniously. Suddenly Tria was aware of a defiant sparkle that had lit in his eyes.
"I must write to the school governors. And Tria, have the Weasley's been notified yet as to their daughter's disappearance?"
"Don' know that either," she mumbled, suddenly chagrined. Here she was hoping the first letter Dumbledore wrote was to Azkaban prison "But I'll find out." Without a backward glance, she headed back the way she'd come, only moments before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tria had to do a bit of searching to find Professor McGonagall. The Halls of Hogwarts were quiet, so quiet that she could hear the fluttering echo of her wings as they propelled her forward. It was only this quiet that helped her to find the Professor, finally catching the sound of her voice behind a door marked "Staff Room". Thankfully the door was ajar, so she could squeeze herself inside. A group of teachers stood clustered together, McGonagall at their center. Off to the side stood the dark, mysterious looking man Tria knew as Professor Snape. He looked on the other group with a cool aloofness, and turned to gaze out one of the windows when Tria managed to catch McGonagall's attention.
The other teachers surged forward with her as the Professor approached.
"Have you any news from Professor Dumbledore, Katriana?"
"The Headmaster ask't me to fetch ya to his chambers, Professor," Tria announced as officially as possible. "And he ask't to know if the Weasley's had been notified 'bout the..." she struggled to remember his exact message. "The disappearance of their daughter."
"Yes, yes," Professor McGonagall assured absently. The whole group seemed to suddenly stand straighter at the mention that Dumbledore still considered himself Headmaster and in charge of the goings on of Hogwarts School.
"Did he say anything else, spryte?" Tria started at the sound of Professor Snape's voice. The Potions Master strode toward her, his look serious and probing.
"Only that he had ta write to the school gov'ners, Professor Snape." Just looking at him gave Tria the jitters, she couldn't hold his piercing gaze for long.
Her answer seemed to satisfy him, for he left the room, black robes billowing out behind him.
"Tria," Professor McGonagall spoke kindly. "Will you do one last thing for us, please?"
Tria nodded, glancing at the faces before her.
"Find Professor Lockhart. He was going to locate the Chamber of Secrets. I am afraid he is not up to the task. We may have..." Tight lipped, she glanced at the teachers who surrounded her. "Just... tell him that Dumbledore is handling things, Tria. We don't want anyone else brought to Madame Pomphrey's infirmary tonight."
Tria nodded, then darted out through the door, flitting up and down the ever darkening corridors. Her eyes adjustedslowly to the dimly lit halls. It became nearly impossible to see in the ever increasing darkness. After a near collision with a statue of a cowering, hump-backed wizard, Tria slowed her flight. Turning a corner and heading down halls that seemed to spiral ever downward, the spryte found herself moving ahead with great caution. She hadn't meant to head toward the dungeons. Making up her mind to take a different direction, Tria stopped herself only inches from colliding with Professor Snape, who seemed quite at home in the darkness that pooled between the just-lit torches that illuminated the hallways.
She stopped short, but gasped in shock as Snape turned around and snatched her out of the air. Her wings bent under his grasp like autumn leaves, and she cried out indignantly to be given back her freedom.
Opening his hand in distaste, Snape scowled down at her. "Why are you following me?" He asked coldly.
"No, Professor," Tria sputtered, attempting to unfurl her wings. "Professor McGonagall asked me to find Gilderoy Lockhart. She was afraid he'd..."
"Afraid he'd end up like all those other petrified people down in the infirmary?" Snape asked, his lip continuing to curl as he stared down at her.
"Yes," Tria answered, standing to her feet. She fluttered her wings to make sure they were still in working order, then frowned at her assessment. She could still fly, but going from there back to Dumbledore's tower chamber was going to be a long and laborious task. "That's what McGonagall wanted. To save him a trip to the infirmary."
"Well, did you?" Snape prodded, glancing around as though he did not want to be seen with any sort of magical creature actually standing in the palm of his hand.
"Did I?" Tria asked, suddenly confused. "Ya mean, find Lockhart? Or save 'im a trip to the infirmary?"
"One and the same, I can assure you."
The spryte knew without being told that his patience, what there was of it, was wearing thin.
"No," Tria answered honestly. "I ha'n't seen nor heard 'im. I was lookin'... till I bumped into you." She decided not to mention that he was the one who had grabbed her out of the air without warning.
"Well." Snape grimaced in what might have almost passed for a smile, but since Tria knew he never did that, she flapped her wings and attempted to hover above his long-fingered hand.
"You're happy now, I should think."
Tria stared at him, now thoroughly confused. "Happy? Why would Ginny Weasley disappearin' make me happy? I'm only tryin' to help Professor Dumbledore. He asked me..."
Snape cut in. "Hagrid will be set free now. Isn't that why you were moping about the Headmaster's chambers, anyway? Trying to get Dumbledore to help you?"
"Mopin' about?" she asked, suddenly indignant. "I'm not mopin'. I'm helpin'! Findin' Professor Lockhart fer a teacher at this school. And I'm not crushin' nobody's wings in the process."
"Oh dear," Snape sneered maliciously. Tria suddenly got the idea that he was enjoying this encounter. "Let me see. Perhaps I have a potion that will restore them."
Tria's heart stopped momentarily as she realized exactly what he was getting at. Years ago he had attempted to restore her wings, to no avail. Only the magic of the Spryte Queen had been successful, and it seemed that Snape was not about to let her forget that she was the cause of his one and only failure.
"All I wanna do is find Lockhart and get back to Dumbledore. He might have another message ta send out."
"If he needs to send another message, he can use an owl. They're faster, at any rate. Definitely more efficient. And their wings don't...... crumble."
Tria rose, refusing to be baited any longer. Snape was not her enemy. If he knew the things she knew about him... But it was better this way. Better for both of them if he remained ignorant of all those years when she'd spent most of her time hidden in Hagrid's tangled hair, secretly watching everything that went on around her.
"I'll be sure to tell him you said so," she retorted, bolstered in knowing that she could fly away, if he chose to pursue. Fortunately, he only gave a short laugh and turned away, and for a moment, just a brief one, Tria imagined there might have been a sliver of warmth to his laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things had changed by the time Tria got back to Dumbledore's chambers. There were people sitting quietly by his fireplace, and an air of sadness filled the room. McGonagall was there, assisting Professor Dumbledore's every move. Several owls flew in the window and then back out as they were given new messages to deliver. The spryte's heart jumped as she wondered if any of them were flying toward Azkaban prison. Suddenly she felt eager to leave Hogwarts behind and head north.
"Ahh. Tria," Dumbledore was the first to address her. "Have you met the Weasleys? Molly and Arthur. They are Ginny's parents. And Ron's, and Percy's."
"And Bill and Charlie, Professor?" Tria asked politely. The woman before her seemed on the verge of tears, as did Professor McGonagall. Molly Weasley's husband Arthur attempted a smile, but it wasn't too convincing.
"Yes," Molly Weasley brightened a bit. "Do you know them, too?"
Tria glanced at Dumbledore, who gave a nod in her direction.
"Charlie an' Hagrid got along real well," the spryte remembered. "And Ginny... Ginny's good with critters too. She ain't afraid of anythin' Hagrid drags up. I ain't got ta know her good yet, Missus Weasley, but I can tell she's a good 'un."
Molly gave a little hiccuping sigh and buried her head against Arthur's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Tria said, flitting from the Weasleys to Dumbledore. "I didn't mean to make ya..."
"Shhh. It's alright, Tria," Dumbledore said gently. "I think this is a wonderful time for the Weasleys to hear what a special child their daughter is. I am glad you're here. I have a few more owls to send, though. Will you excuse me, please?"
Tria's eyes locked on his for a long moment, wondering if any of those letters were heading toward Azkaban.
"If you could continue to make sure the Weasleys are made to feel at home."
"A 'course," she murmured, realizing resignedly that Dumbeldore had promised she could go with the owl that sent Hagrid's release order to Azkaban. She knew he wouldn't forget, which could only mean that the time had not yet arrived. She swung back around to Molly and Arthur, trying to smile as she offered them tea from a silver tray that had suddenly appeared on a side table.
It was only after everyone had been served that Tria noticed the Headmaster's phoenix was not settled in on his usual perch. She flitted about the room, peering into all the places Fawkes had frequented while the spryte had been Dumbledore's guest. Only a chance bit of noise made Tria look up just as the last feather in Fawke's long tail disappeared out an upper window. The spryte looked around to see if anyone else in their company thought this an odd time for the bird to slip away, but the humans were all absorbed in their own tasks. Dumbledore and McGonagall were at the headmaster's desk, studying star charts and gazing stones. Molly and Arthur Weasley were staring vacantly into the fireplace. Without giving much thought to her actions, Tria rose to the window ledge, then pushed off, following the bird's flight path.
"Fawkes!" she whispered into the night. For a brief moment Tria wondered if Dumbledore had decided to send the phoenix to Azkaban with Hagrid's release papers, but that thought was pushed from her mind as the bird began to spiral downward, entering Hogwarts castle. Intrigued, the spryte followed, noticing finally that Fawkes held a bundle in his claws. It bounced jerkily as he changed directions, zooming through the school's now-empty corridors. It was all Tria could do to keep up, as Fawkes made his way to the castle kitchens. Without warning, the bird dived beak first into a large drainpipe set into the floor in a corner of the kitchen. Tria slowed. The part of her that reveled in sunshine and freedom was not ready to follow the phoenix into the dark, uncharted depths of Hogwarts drainage system. A muffled noise from the bird pushed back Tria's indecision. She aimed for the drain and closed her eyes, opening them only after she sensed the darkness of the pipe surround her.
Cool, damp air enveloped the spryte as she made her decent. For the first time she wondered if perhaps she'd have been better off remaining in Dumbledore's chambers. Something compelled her to follow, though, and she obeyed, trepidation and not a little fear growing inside her as the two continued their flight. Spryte sparkles illuminated Tria, but she was still caught by surprise when Fawkes dropped his bundle, without a bit of warning. The spryte found herself immediately tangled in the folds of something old, yet familiar. It took her a full minute before she placed the obstruction. It was the ancient sorting hat Professor Dumbledore kept on a stool in his office. Tria could hear Fawkes ahead. Spryte sparkles revealed the impatience of his glare as he landed and waited for Tria. He couldn't turn around to retrieve his bundle in the confines of the drain pipe. Feeling rather dull-witted, the spryte finally scooped up the hat and the two resumed their flight. In moments, bird and spryte found their drain pipe opening up into a wide underground chamber. Tria heard a voice below her. A voice she recognized at once.
"Harry Potter," she whispered in amazement. She had no time to ponder what he was doing so far underneath Hogwarts, for at that moment she lost her grip on the sorting hat.
It fell unceremoniously into Harry's lap.
Just then Fawkes buzzed by her again, and the spryte knew it was time for her to go. A sudden excitement exploded inside her. She knew without being told that she was now free to fly straight to Azkaban prison. She knew she'd beat Hagrid's release papers too, but then, she'd never had any doubt about doing that, anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though she felt like entering Azkaban screaming Hagrid's name and scattering sparkles in every direction, Tria flew in quietly, and unannounced. The barrier that had once kept her outside was gone now, and she flitted from one floor to the next, peering into cell after cell in search of the giant. Darkness closed around her, determined to keep Azkaban's prisoners hidden, but the spryte was more determined still.
When she finally found Hagrid, she flew at him full force, hitting him so hard in the chest that she bounced off, dazed for a moment. Hagrid didn't stir.
"Hagrid!" Tria whispered as she came to her senses. Athough she knew better, the spryte couldn't help but shower her friend with sparkles. What they illuminated, there in the dark, was a sight that threatened to break Tria's very heart. Slumped in a corner like a massive pile of someone's discarded laundry sat her giant. Her one true friend. He didn't stir as she hovered before him. It wasn't until she darted back and forth several time that he finally, reflexively swatted her away.
"Hagrid!" she demanded again, only louder this time. "Don't you remember me? It's Tria. I come ta get ya outa here."
"Tria," the giant mumbled softly. "I remember Tria. Hated me, that spryte did. Wanted ta be free. I kep' her though. Made her a cage. Had bars like... like a prison."
Tria groaned. She grabbed his cheeks with both hands, trying hard to shake some sense into his head. He was cold and clammy to her touch. His head lolled back against the rock wall as he finally focused on the spryte.
"It's time ta go," Tria prodded impatiently. "We're leavin' here, now, and I don' care if Dumbledore's owl got here yet er not."
"Can't leave, " Hagrid mumbled. "Too hard. Stay here."
"Hagrid, ya can't!" The spryte pleaded. "Ya got stuff ta do at Hogwarts. Dumbledore needs ya to look after things. He tole me so. Now get up. It's time ta go home."
"Home?" Hagrid groaned, and Tria wished she'd never said the word.
"They don' want me there no more. Hate me at Hogwarts."
"They don't hate you, Hagrid. They love you. I love you. Can we go now?"
Two great tears squeezed past the giants eyelids and slid silently down his pale cheeks.
Just then an enormous snowy owl landed outside Hagrid's cell. Two more joined it, each dropping a brown-wrapped package before it rose to leave. Tria darted forward, scooping up the packages and slipping back through the bars before anything could stop her. Ripping the paper off the first box, the spryte gave a nervous laugh of relief.
"Chocolate!"
She broke off a piece of the candy bigger than she was and flew forward, pressing it against the giant's lips.
"Eat this," she said, wondering if she'd have to force it down his throat, and not unwilling to try it. But she needn't have worried. Just the smell of the stuff seemed to have an affect on Hagrid. He opened his mouth and accepted the piece Tria had broken. As it disappeared into his mouth, she was busy breaking off another. Tears began to roll down the spryte's little face as she watched her friend revive. She'd never seen him in such depths of despair. Little sprouts of greenery began to unfurl in the folds of Hagrid's coat sleeves, or where ever Tria's tears landed. They grew, slowly at first, then more rapidly as additional tears fell to join the first. Tria pressed herself hard against Hagrid's cheek, oblivious to the plant life that threatened to swallow them whole.
All three boxes of chocolate were emptied before Hagrid felt steady enough to stand to his feet. Tria had managed to tunnel into the depths of his matted mane, and even when the guards came to release them, she didn't loosen her grip. She clung to his hair as he pulled at the tendrils of green still growing from his coat sleeves. Although she'd tried to stop their flow, a fresh splash of tears fell, this time running down Hagrid's arm and landing in the palm of his massive hand. He closed his fingers over them and did not open his hand again until the two of them were safely back inside their house at the edge of the forbidden forest.
Hagrid hadn't said much on the trip home, and Tria hadn't pressed him. She knew he'd talk when he got ready. She watched as he opened his hand, once inside the hut, and gently placed the tendrils that had grown from Tria's tears into a bucket of soil.
"We can plant those tomorrow, when it's light," he said softly. "On either side a the stairs. And if they grow up and take over this whole place, it won't bother me. And I don't want ya sleepin' in that cage n'more, Tria. Don't even want it in this house. Yer place is with me. You can sleep where I sleep. No more bars."
Tria said nothing, speechless for once, as she helped him get ready to make an entrance at the castle. The whole school was celebrating the victory won in the Chamber os Secrets. Dumbledore had left word that Ginny Weasley was safe, and Hagrid's name forever cleared. It was close to three o'clock in the morning, but the celebrating continued. Tria knew that Hagrid would want to go and thank Ron and Harry. She'd already broken three combs in his hair, and was still having trouble with tangles, when Hagrid spoke.
"I had ta keep ya outa there. You'da never made it. Those guards... the Dementors. They eat happiness like candy. I had ta keep ya out. Ya unn'erstand that, don't ya?"
Tria nodded. "What were those things?" she asked gently.
"Devils from the pit a' hell, reckon," Hagrid replied. "Keep the pris'ners all tucked in by stealin' ever las' bit a hope in their hearts. Good plan, far as that goes." He offered a weak smile, and Tria threw herself at him, pressing herself against his face once again, one arm thrown across the bridge of his nose, the other buried deep in the wiry softness of his hair.
"You won't be goin' there again," she assured him. "We can thank our friends fer that." And while Hagrid thought immediately of Harry and Ron, Tria pictured Fawkes and Dumbledore, whose name had been scrawled boldly across the first box of chocolate delivered to Hagrid's prison cell.
"Yer right, spryte," Hagrid agreed as she let go of his face and hovered before him. "Let's go do that, now."
Tria hung back as the giant pulled open his front door, watching with satisfaction as he took the path that led to Hogwarts great hall. Hagrid was home. And Tria vowed in her little spryte heart that she'd never let him go anywhere without her again.