Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ transplanted from one species to a different species.

NOTE: I know how to spell Hagrid.


"Apparently, the Keeper of Keys has invited me to tea," said Harry one fine morning, feeding Hedwig a bit of his bacon as she preened.

Ronnie, her mouth stuffed full of the greasy goodness, gave him a confused look. "Wha' you on abou'?"

Harry handed over the letter he'd received from the tall bloke they'd seen near the Greenhouses sometimes. Halfway through reading the messy scrawl, Herman and Nanelle came over to their table, most of the other students having left.

"We'll be late for class if you idiots don't hurry up," huffed Herman, being as snooty as ever, around four books in his thin arms.

Ronnie gave him a glare, swallowed noisily and wiped the grease off her lips and onto her skirt. "Who asked you to wait for us? We have charms you bloody nitwit! With Slytherin."

Herman sniffed disapprovingly. "You have no manners."

"Your face has no manners!" said Ronnie, blushing.

Herman brushed his bushy hair out of his eyes; Harry thought he should either get a haircut or grow it out – the in between phase was the worst, he knew from experience.

That had been quite a trying year; Aunt Petunia still had nightmares about his...gender experimentation.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" said Herman, his face colouring.

Draco came to the Hufflepuff table at this point in time, having worked quite hard to shoo Crabbe and Goyle to their lesson without him. "Why do I even know you people?"

Harry gave him a flashy smile. "For the banter."

Draco snorted. "Well, if you and your ginger can finish stuffing your faces, we can all get to class."

Ronnie didn't approve of this form of address and shoved Draco. "I'll suck your soul out if you don't shut it, albino."

Harry was pleased to note that Draco only looked mildly offended. "Off to Charms then. Nanelle, you get a point."

Ronnie muttered a few choice curses, Draco looked resigned and Herman spluttered. "Why? I didn't even do anything mildly offensive this morning!"

Harry hummed in agreement. "You're getting better, but Nanelle will always have you beat."

Nanelle blushed, not quite understanding why Harry felt the need to embarrass her like this; positive reinforcement was not something she was used to.

Ronnie gave Harry a sideways glance and muttered, "Yeah, she will, cause she's a bloody mute, int she?"

Harry matched Ronnie's eyes with an obtuse frown. "I don't know what you mean by that Ronena Weasley, but I'm sure it wasn't anything negative, right?"

Nanelle wished the ground would swallow her up.

"My name isn't bloody Ronena! Who told you that? Fred and George right? I'll kill them!" Ronnie screeched.

"Lesson time! Honestly, all of you are so irresponsi—" Herman began, but by the time he properly got into lecture mode, his fellow students were already halfway out of the Great Hall. "Hey, wait for me!"


Every month, and it was quite regular, Professor Lupin would be replaced by a ghost named Cuthbert Binns, who made everyone appreciate Professor Lupin even more than they already did.

Herman wanted to figure out why, but when he brought it up, Harry gave him a look, and he backed down.

Draco snickered. Nanelle gently chided him.

Ronnie muttered, "Whipped."

Herman studiously ignored them, loudly reciting random facts from his tree-trunk thick book, for 'light reading'. "Did you know that Nicolas Flammel is celebrating his six hundred and sixty fifth birthday?"

Draco gave him a blank stare. "And we care because?"

"D-Draco..." Nanelle said, trying to look disapproving but only pulling off hurt-bunny.


"So yer Harry! I rememb'r when ye was small enough ta fit in m'hand! Yeh've grown!" exclaimed Hagrid as he let the four of them in. (Draco had refused the invitation on principle.)

"You knew me as a child, Keeper of Keys?" asked Harry, steering well clear of the bloodhound in the corner.

Ronnie, on the other hand, was fascinated. "Why did I have to get a rat anyway? Why couldn't it be something awesome, like a dog?" she whispered moodily.

The dog bound over to Harry and started licking his face, leaving it a slobbering mess when Hagrid finally pulled him away.

"This 'ere's Fang. Don' worry; e's 'armless, aren' ya boy?"

Harry decided to take his word for it; dogs and him didn't have the best relationship, owing to the fact that, before Hogwarts, he'd been primarily exposed to them via Aunt Marge, and after Hogwarts, he was always covered in cat fur.

Tarquin seemed to have an odd fondness for Harry's wardrobe.

Nanelle stammered a greeting. Herman eyed his hut in consternation. "Is this place even sanitary?"

Ronnie threw him an annoyed look. "Why in Merlin's name does that matter?"

Herman gave her a very disapproving look. Ronnie looked entirely unmoved.

Nanelle whimpered and the both of them apologised.

Harry placed a hand on Nanelle's shoulder and smiled at her. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around!"

Nanelle felt distinctly useful.


"The Half Giant didn't eat you I see," Draco drawled, giving them a once over. "Pity."

Goyle and Crabbe gaped gormlessly.

Harry gave them both a polite nod. They gave no visible indication that they'd registered it.

Ronnie clenched her fists while Herman fumed silently. Harry gave Nanelle a very pleased smile, and the pudgy girl blushed and shyly smiled back.

Draco raised an eyebrow imperiously. "What's wrong with them Evans?"

Harry raised his hand for a high-five. Draco, not understanding the gesture, gave him an unamused stare.

Harry put his hand back down sadly; maybe next time then.

Tarquin weaved his way around their legs in a rather fashionable manner and purred, getting Harry's attention momentarily.

He gave all of them a happy nod and said, "Tarquin's found the kitchen. On a completely unrelated note, guess what we're doing tonight?"

Herman wanted to yell about the sheer recklessness of the idea. Ronnie wanted to yell, period.

"What's wrong with them Nanelle?" asked Draco in frustration; Harry'd started petting his needy cat, and who knew how long that would last this time.

Nanelle stuttered something incoherent. Draco wanted to smash something.

Harry looked up from his luxuriously boneless cat and said, "They had some of Hagrid's rock cakes. 'Twas fabulous. Should've been there Draco. Never would've thought we could have a moments peace with the both of them in the same room, but they managed for half an hour."

Draco looked at Herman and Ronnie derisively. "Are you stupid? The oaf could've poisoned it!"

Crabbe had finally realised that Harry had greeted them nearly six minutes ago. He nodded back.

Harry gave Draco a nonchalant look. "I'd thank you not to call him an oaf. A terrible cook, certainly, but he's rather intelligent in his own way. For example, did you know that he raised a three-headed dog from infancy?"

Draco stared, wide-eyed. "How did he not die?"

Harry looked rather pleased as he said, "Turns out, all that he needed to do was play a bit of music. But that is entirely irrelevant, and it's very likely that it's just a piece of trivia that no one cares about. Oh, hello Professor Quirrell. What are you doing skulking around over there for?"


It was nearing Christmas when Hagrid lost his hut in a blazing fire caused by a baby dragon.

He insisted Norbert was innocent, Harry felt compelled to vouch for him, and thus, Harry was thrust forward into the sleazy world of politics and sensationalism.


"Mr Evans, Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. How do you do?" said a stylish blonde woman, sucking at the end of a quill with a wide and faintly predatory smile on her face.

"I do quite well, but the real question is, what is the true purpose of Moonshine's odd fascination with hags?" asked Harry contemplatively.

Rita blinked. Then blinked again. "...right. Mr Evans, is it true that you are going to testify for the Groundsweeper, Ruby Hargid?"

It was Harry's turn to blink. Next to him, Ronnie had a flushed face and Herman was trying his level best not to melt under the pressure. Nanelle had long since hidden herself in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Draco was too busy smiling and posing for the cameraman to be of any use. "Certainly not. Hogwarts doesn't have a Groundsweeper. Or anyone named Ruby Hargid. Do you do any research before asking questions, or is it just because it's a Monday morning?" he asked curiously.

Tarquin, who was sitting on his lap and hissing at the camera, turned to look at Rita curiously as well.

Her smile became rather fixed, but she still managed to say, "Of course, silly me. Perhaps you can tell us more about yourself Harry? Everyone in the wizarding world is dying to hear more about the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Harry gave her an even gaze. "Rubeus Hagrid is the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I'll be talking about him, thank you very much."

"Your bloody quill'd better be taking that down word for word, or I'll smack your pretty little face in!" threatened Ronnie, eyes narrowing at the floating parchment in front of her.

Draco gave the quill a lazy look and then turned to look at Rita with a casual smile he'd practised in the mirror. "I'm pretty sure that Quick Quotes Quills are illegal Ms Skeeter, but I am just a first year..."

Herman couldn't do anything of significance, and he wished he hadn't thought to accompany Harry to his interview. Professor Sprout looked pleased as punch that Harry was going to be in the news and was humming to himself happily in the background, ostensibly supervising the goings on.

Rita Skeeter grit her teeth in annoyance.

Bloody celebrities...


His face was on the front page of the Daily Prophet, a feminine-looking scrawny eleven year old with a pleasant smile, claiming that Hagrid was sold that baby dragon egg by Lord –bleep!— The general public was suitably impressed.

Minister Fudge was so impressed that he even went to prison in sheer panic, to remind himself that Lord Bleep was dead, and his followers, especially his evil right hand, Sirius Black, were still very much suitably restrained.

"Are you done with that paper, Minister?" asked a sunken-faced Black, a ghost of a smile on his once-handsome face. "Only, I'm terribly bored, you see. Miss doing the crossword."

Fudge, forgetting that the front page had the very news that might make a Death Eater want to break out of Azkaban, handed it over, glad to be rid of it.

Sirius Orion Black took one look at the boy, who looked so much like Jamielle Evans nee Potter, that he turned into a dog and slipped through the bars.

He'd done his time—ten years of it.


Well, I hope you enjoyed that! Seeing as I have no way of knowing if anyone's actually reading this, it'd be much appreciated if I could get at least a slight heads up on that - anything really, to tell me that I should continue publishing the chapters. :)