Between the Tasks, Pt II
Boxing Day was sleep-in day, especially after the Ball last night. Harry met up with Hermione in the main lobby.
"Your hair...", he noticed Hermione's hair was back to its normal bushiness.
"I used Sleekeaze Hair Potion", she explained, "it's not something I want to bother with every day, and I wonder about long term effects".
"That's the thing", Harry said, "I wonder how many women and girls would like to use it? Too bad they can't sell it to the public at large".
"I'm sure a lot. Well, there's the Secrecy Statute, and the muggle government would want to know what's in it, how it's made, and then all that testing".
"It's really too bad the magical community doesn't make more of an effort to benefit everyone".
"Don't let Mr. Malfoy hear you say that. Anyway, can you believe it? Dumbledore actually booked The Furries for the Ball?"
"Surprised me too, I guess the old guy isn't as out of touch with his students as we tend to think. Though, McGonagall didn't look too pleased".
"How'd it go with Pansy?"
"Went just fine".
"You go out to the garden?"
"Yep, even though Snape was being a real pain in the ass… That reminds me, something Karkarov said set him off… I'm glad I finally got up enough nerve to ask her… You and Viktor visit the garden?"
"No, I'm afraid we didn't".
"You were sure gone a long time".
"He's a really great guy, despite what they say about Durmstrang, said he'd like to come to England, and that he liked what he's seen of Hogwarts".
"Good to hear you had a good time too. The Bulgarians won't like that, losing their national treasure of a Quiddich player.
"Ummmm… we weren't the only ones in the garden", Harry said. "Madam Maxime and Hagrid were there, too, and, well, we heard something we didn't know before… I really don't like to gossip..."
"Then don't. Just be happy Hagrid's found someone. If it's important, he'll tell in his own good time".
"You're right again, as usual..."
"I know, it's a curse".
In the Great Hall, Ron didn't say a word to either Harry or Hermione. They didn't press him as it looked like his date with Millicent was a disaster. Fred and George, on the other hand, weren't the least bit reticent about describing their dates, their evenings. They also narrowly dodged Snape on his garden patrol.
"See?", Harry said, "There are more ways of having fun besides sneaking Canary Cremes onto the snack trays".
"Maybe, but you got to admit...", Fred began.
"...It'd be a helluva prank", George finished that thought.
It was nice, having a week off without classes or homework. However, February looked a lot closer, being on the far side of Christmas. Still no luck with the egg. Harry tried opening it upside down, asking it a question, both before opening it, and shouting questions over the cacophony after opening it. No luck: nothing he did differently made a difference.
It was no different for Fleur, and she did take hers to the computer lab. The FFT showed nothing but random seeming noise. Harry had warned her: the British Ministry wouldn't do anything that would require tech. There had to be some other way, some charm, but even translation charms didn't help any. He wondered how Cedric and Viktor were doing? If they didn't crack it either, then no one would know, and everyone would be on equal terms. More and more, this was looking like their only hope. Harry stuffed the egg back in his trunk. No sense worrying about it.
He used the time to get off an owl to Lucius, let him know what he overheard, and to owl his "Thank you's" for the presents.
Dumbledore bent the rules a bit as he'd announced a Hogsmeade outing and opened it to all students, not just Fourth Years and up. Except for the video games at Beaux Batons' computer lab, there really wasn't a lot to do. Their first stop was the Three Broomsticks.
"Mind if we join you?", Harry and Hermione asked Hagrid, who was sitting at a table, alone, with his oversized tankard of butterbeer.
"Hepp yeseffs", he said.
"I thought she unnerstand", he said. "Big bones… Ah give her big bones..."
Harry made a subtle motion to Hermione to say nothing.
"Who?", Harry asked.
"Olympe".
"I saw you at the faculty dance, looked like you were having a good time".
"Aye"
"Don't give up", Hermione encouraged.
"There's an old muggle saying: 'It ain't over till it's over'. You remember James and Lily?", Harry reminded. "It wasn't smooth sailing the whole way for them, was it?"
"Ye rye boud dat", Hagrid conceded.
"I dunnit", he said, changing the subject.
"Done what?"
"Gave Miss Skeeter her innerview. Rye nice lady, she was. Talked boud critters thuh whole time. Says thuh article be comin out soon".
"I hope that's all she writes about", Harry said. "I don't trust her".
"We'll see", Hermione said.
Harry met up with Pansy at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Room. From the decor, it was obvious this tea room was meant for dates: naked, baby Cupids on the walls who shot arrows. Pink hearts that floated across the ceiling.
"Don't misinterpret", Pansy began, "I don't regret going to the Ball with you..."
"Did something happen?", Harry asked, concerned.
"It's some of the others… When Father was still alive, they accepted me because he was one of the Dark Lord's followers. But now, they didn't approve of my dating choices. Especially that Teddie Nott. I turned him down, you see, and he and his cronies have been doing their best to turn everyone against me..."
"I'm sorry to hear that", Harry said. "I didn't think of that..."
"Don't. I don't have any regrets".
"Welcome to the Slytherin Outcasts. Draco, Luna, Millicent..."
"They've always been nice, and I avoided giving them any grief, even if it would've been hard to explain if Father ever found out".
"And Snape?"
"He's been doing his best to keep a lid on their bad behaviour".
Harry doing his best Snape impersonation: "Even though you're Pot-ter's girl friend?"
"He never mentioned that. Really, I don't know what it is with you two".
"He's had it in for me since Day One. Asking if I knew the answer to a question way beyond a Firstie's understanding, that message he scrawled on the black board: 'Dunderheads', he called us. I dread imagining how he'd've been if that Hat dropped me in Gryffindor".
"Some people just can't seem to help rubbing you the wrong way, I guess".
Snape wasn't the only one: he immediately thought of Ron, especially with the way he's been behaving since the Ball.
"Anyway", Pansy continued, "what are your plans?"
"Go back to Beaux Batons… Maybe you could ask your Mum to transfer you? … Try to get through the next task intact? Then, who knows?"
"How are you coming along?"
"I haven't a clue, and neither does Fleur. I don't think anyone's been able to solve it".
0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
Mid-January and five weeks to go until the second ordeal, and Harry was no closer to solving the egg. Fleur and Harry had been called to Madam Maxime's office.
"'Arry, Fleur, I 'ave been geeting reports zat your grades are slee-ping".
"Yes, Ma'am, they agreed. "I shall try to do better", Fleur apologized.
"It's not fair...", Harry started.
"Vhot eesn't fair?", Madam asked.
"They give us this uncrackable clue, and expect us to do school work too? There aren't enough hours in a day!"
"I understand, but, 'Arry, keep your priorities in line. I understand you vant to vin vun for zee school, but zat ees only a momentary thing. Your future ees most important. Eef you don't solve it, zat ees not important, only a moment out of your life. Zee years ahead ees vhot counts. Understand, 'Arry?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'll do better".
Harry knew Madam Maxime was right, of course. He wouldn't have cared but for the fact that he didn't enter the Triwizard Tournament willingly, that he felt as though his life was on the line.
"What's up?", Hermione asked Harry at the mid-day meal at Hogwarts.
"Maxime called me into the office to complain about falling grades".
"So the Boy Who Lived is flunking out?", Ron said with a hint of glee.
"No, Ron, I am not flunking out", Harry protested. "Someone piss in your corn flakes this morning?"
"She knows what she did", Ron complained as he glared at Hermione.
"What's that supposed to mean?", Hermione asked.
"You're supposed to be such a genius, why don't you figure it out?"
"So what are you going to do about it?", Hermione asked Harry. She figured ignoring Ron was the best thing to do.
"I'm gonna put that damn egg in my trunk, forget about it, and get my grades in order..."
"What about the Task?"
"T'hellwiddit! I'll show up, lose the damn thing, maybe get disqualified from the rest of the Tournament. I did my part: I showed up so I get to keep the magic. I should have decided on that a long time ago. Fukit! Fuck them all and their Tournament!"
For the next several days, that's what Harry did: spent his free time catching up on his neglected studies. He'd leave it up to Fleur to win one for Beaux Batons. The problem was she wasn't having any better luck with her egg than Harry had with his. He explained why he wasn't trying to solve the puzzle:
"If we're to win, then it's only right that you score the win. You signed up for this: I didn't. I'm not even supposed to be in this Tournament in the first place".
Harry sat up in bed after being jolted awake. He remembered something, one of those Star Trek movies he'd watched with Dudley last summer. This was the one where Kirk, Spock, and McCoy returned to Earth in the Klingon Bird of Prey they'd hijacked in the previous movie after they blew up the Enterprise and a whole bunch of Klingons. As they were approaching Earth, they intercepted an urgent message advising all Federation Starships to stay away. Earth was under attack from a very large, very powerful, alien probe that was sending out an indecipherable signal that only made sense when heard underwater… What if?
The Beaux Batons airliner was equipped with showers only, so that was no good. Even though he'd seen Viktor Krum come onto the deck of the Durmstrang ship wearing swim trunks only, stand on the railing and dive into Black Lake, the only other one he knew who'd consider going for a swim in the middle of January was Lucius. There was also the possibility that Krum, or some other son of Durmstrang, would see him taking his egg into the lake.
That left the prefects' bathroom. He hoped they hadn't changed the password since the last time he visited it. As for when, he decided that now was as good a time as any, it was a bit past 2:30 in the morning. Until he checked out his hunch, there would be no sleep anyway. Harry pulled on his uniform, gathered his egg and Invisibility Cloak. He brought along the Marauders Map since he'd need to look out for staff patrols, and the floor plan. The prefects' bathroom was on the fifth floor, four doors down from a statue of Boris the Bewildered. Slipping into Hogwarts wasn't a problem, given all the secret passages the Marauders Map revealed. So far, no one was out and about, not even Filch's nosy cat: Mrs Norris. Now, if only the password worked: "Pine fresh", he said, and the door unlocked.
Inside, was a rose water pool shrouded by fine mist. Stepping in the moist silence, with a warm breeze he was gently kissed. On the opposite wall hung a large painting of a fairy tale mermaid, who was thankfully "asleep". He pulled off his uniform, and jumped in. The water came up to his neck. Next, he dropped the heavy egg to the bottom, took several deep breathes, and ducked under water. As soon as the egg opened, he heard that he'd guessed right. The noise was now a comprehensible message, though not sounding like any normal voice.
Come seek us where our voices sound
For we can not sing above the ground
And while you're searching ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss
An hour long you'll have to look
And to recover what we took
Past an hour, the prospect's black
It's over. It's done: it's gone and won't be back
He took three more dives to fully memorize this song or poem. It was, at best, a partial answer to the question of the Second Task. He'd worry about that later. The bathroom had a convenient drying charm. Harry got dressed and headed back under the Cloak. He consulted the Map before proceeding. Almost all the named dots were in the dorms. Peeves was out, of course, but he was up on the next floor, in the trophy room, no doubt making more work for Filch or any students he had for detention. He also noticed something else: two dots inside Professor Snape's office, neither belonging to Snape, but rather to Fred and George. They said Canary Cremes wasn't their only idea, no doubt they were nicking ingredients from Snape's private stocks.
He noticed something else, a staircase opposite the direction he came that led to a shortcut directly to the second floor. He headed off in that direction, even though it would pass close to Snape's office, but if the Twins discovered him, no big deal. He tried being as quiet as possible, but faces in portraits turned in his direction at the squeak of a floorboard or the rustle of his uniform. That was a big problem: the walls of Hogwarts literally had eyes and ears. The portraits weren't actually alive, but rather like Turing Tests. They acted as much like their subjects as possible. They also reported directly to the Headmaster. It was another reason why he preferred his new school: privacy actually existed there, no sneaky, tattle-tale portraits. On the next floor, he went to a staircase hidden behind a tapestry. This one narrower, and little used.
He had the egg tucked under an arm. Half way down, his foot sank into a trick step. He pitched forward, nearly breaking an ankle. The Cloak slipped, and grabbing it meant losing the Map, which landed six steps farther down. The egg sounded like a rifle shot with each step where it bounced. The noise was sure to attract someone's attention, even if just Peeves, but that was bad enough as he'd go telling everyone about it. No pleading with him to keep quiet. The egg dropped to the landing, rolled through the tapestry, where it popped open with that earsplitting noise that sounded even louder in the once quiet halls of the castle. Harry, stuck to his knee, tried reaching out with his wand to close the Map, but couldn't reach it. The more he struggled, the deeper into the trick step he sank. So much for his plans for subtlety in clue seeking.
"PEEVES!", of course Filch would be the first to notice. "What's all this racket?! Wake the whole castle will you?! … "What's this?"
There was a metal-on-metal click and the egg silenced as Filch closed it. Harry knew it was only seconds until Filch threw back the tapestry, intending to catch Peeves, but there would be no Peeves. He was sure to come up the stairs, see the Map, and/or run smack into Harry.
"My Sweet", Harry heard him say, so his nosy alter ego must be with him, "this is a Triwizard clue!", he called out. "It belongs to one of the contestants…
"PEEVES, you've been stealing!", he said with glee.
He pulled back the tapestry, and looked up what, to him, looked like a vacant stairway: "Hiding are you? I got you! Dumbledore'll for certain kick you out now, you filthy, pilfering, poltergeist!"
He started up the stairs, just as he feared, his alter ego right at his heels. Mrs. Norris' lamp-like eyes, so much like her partner's looked straight at him. He hoped Invisibility Cloaks worked on cats.
He was at once relieved and horrified: relieved that Filch was interrupted, horrified at the sound of the next voice he heard. Even if he couldn't assign detentions or deduct points, he had promised to make Harry's life difficult if Harry made life difficult for him.
"Filch? What is going on?", came the unmistakable drawl of Professor Snape. He stepped onto the landing, still in his flannel night shirt, and he looked positively pist. He did stop Filch a few steps below Harry.
"Peeves, Professor, he threw this egg down the stairs".
Snape came up to the step below Filch.
"Peeves?", Snape asked. "He couldn't get into my office".
"This egg was in your office?", Filch asked.
"No, of course not!", Snape snapped at him. "I heard banging and wailing".
"Yes, Professor, that was the egg..."
"I was coming to investigate..."
"Peeves threw it..."
"And when I passed my office, I saw the torches lit and a cupboard door still ajar. Someone's been in my office!", he said, very upset.
"Peeves couldn't...", Filch started.
"Of course he couldn't! I seal my office with a charm only a wizard could break". He looked up the staircase. "I want you to come with me to help search for the intruder".
"Go! Go! Leave please!", Harry thought to himself.
"But, Professor, Sir… Peeves… Professor, I've caught him stealing from a student. This time, Dumbledore'll have no choice but to listen. This might be my one and only opportunity to have him ejected from the castle"
Mrs Norris was still taking way too much interest in Harry. He figured if she didn't see him, then she could smell the lingering scent of rose water. He hoped Snape kept him distracted enough to not notice Mrs Norris' noticing.
"I don't give a damn about that wretched poltergeist, Filch! Students stealing potion ingredients for unauthorized experiments, or what's more likely, exam keys, is more important than your petty vendettas!", Snape snapped at him.
The unmistakable sound of Moody's wooden leg sounded. The one-eyed x-auror stood at the foot of the stairs. He, too, was still in night clothes.
"A pajama party?", he asked. "And no one invited me? I should feel insulted".
"Professor Moody", Snape greeted. "What brings you here?"
"Heard noises", he said.
"That was Peeves the Poltergeist throwing things again", Filch explained. "Then Professor Snape said someone broke into his off..."
"Shutup, Filch", Snape hissed at him.
Moody asked, "Someone broke into your office?"
"It's not important", Snape said.
"On the contrary", Moody disagreed, "it's very important. With all the other irregularities that have been going on this year"
"Students stealing potions ingredients from my private stores, I suspect the Weasley Twins, or exam keys, and I suspect the Weasley Twins..."
Moody looked right up the stairwell. Harry knew he could see through his Invisibility Cloak. Moody gave a slight look of surprise Harry hoped the other two didn't see.
"You wouldn't, by any chance, be hiding anything else in there, would you?"
The way the torch light from the other side of the tapestry made Moody's bent features and that part of his missing nose, stand out in sharp contrast. The skepticism was unmistakable.
"You know there isn't!", Snape snapped. "You've undoubtedly searched my office, and every other office, since you arrived".
"Auror's privilege. Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye..."
"I highly doubt Albus Dumbledore ordered you to search my office. He trusts me completely", Snape hissed through clenched teeth.
"I know he trusts you, Snape. Dumbledore is the trusting sort, isn't he? Wants to believe the best of everyone, doesn't he? Believes in second chances, doesn't he? Me, I believe that some spots can never be removed. Spots that never. Come. Out. D'you know what I mean, Snape?"
Severus ran a hand over the inside of his left arm.
"Go back to bed, Snape", Moody told him.
"You have no authority to be ordering me around", Snape said.
Of all the times, Harry thought, he just had to pick this one to score childish points.
"I'll patrol the halls any time I want", Snape continued.
"Fine by me: patrol away. I'm looking forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some night". The way he said it left no doubt but that he would shoot first, ask questions later. Moody had a reputation for being jinx-happy.
"By the way, you dropped something".
To his horror, Moody was pointing to the Map. He took a chance of being seen, of pulling up the hem of the Cloak. He waved, mouthing "It's mine!", while pointing to himself, and at the Map.
As Snape was reaching for it…
"Accio parchment!", Moody cast the Summoning Charm, sending the Map flying through Snape's fingers. "My mistake, it's mine. Must've dropped it earlier", he said.
"Pot-ter!", Snape exclaimed.
"How's that again?", Moody asked.
"Pot-ter: that's his egg..."
"Those eggs all look alike, and they all work alike. It could be anyone's".
"Pot-ter's here, under his father's invisibility cloak", Snape began to reach out, like a blind man feeling his way up the stairs. Harry had to lean back.
"There's nothing there!", Moody called out. "Potter's in the airliner! He isn't here!"
"I say he is!"
"I will, of course, be reporting this to Dumbledore", Moody threatened. "Just how fast you jumped to the conclusion that Harry Potter was involved. Dumbledore thinks someone has it in for that boy, and I quite agree. I'm sure he will be interested very much as to why the first person you accuse is a boy who doesn't sleep in Hogwarts' dorms".
Moody and Snape glared at one another, like a game of chicken. Snape blinked first.
"I think I'll return to my rooms", Snape conceded. He went back the way he came.
"Best idea you had all night", Moody agreed. "Let me have that egg", Moody said to Filch.
"This is evidence..."
"It's the property of the student from whom it was taken. I will see it returned to its proper owner. Hand it over, nothing more to be done tonight". Filch reluctantly handed over the egg. An opportunity to get even with Peeves missed.
"Come, My Sweet", Filch conceded. He whistled, and Mrs Norris, with one last look back, followed Filch.
After hearing Filch's office door close, Harry took off the Cloak.
"That was a close shave, Potter", Moody said.
"Too close", Harry agreed.
"What're you doing here anyway?"
"If you would, Professor", Harry said.
"Of course", as Moody lifted him from the trick step. "Now what are you doing here?"
"I came to use the prefects' bathroom, to hear the egg's clue. You can understand it only under water. I didn't want to go for a dip in the lake and risk hypothermia, and I didn't want the Durmstrang's possibly seeing and figuring it out. The airliner has showers only".
"Interesting… You ever consider a career with the Auror Corps? Looks like you have the mind for it. You shouldn't be wandering the grounds alone at night. Certainly not under the present circumstances", Moody warned.
"What is this?", he said of the parchment.
"Map of Hogwarts. I was using it to find my way around".
"Merlin's beard!", Moody gasped as he took a good look at it. "That's some map you have there".
Harry was concerned, wondering how he would explain this without revealing the illegal animagus status of Sirius.
"You wouldn't mind if I borrowed this? This could prove mighty useful. Mighty useful indeed. Just the thing I was looking for".
"No, not at all. Just don't forget where you got it".
"When my assignment here is up, you'll get it back", Moody reassured. "You didn't, by the way, see who was in Snape's office?"
"No comment", Harry replied.
"I must insist".
"I don't want to get anyone in trouble..."
"I'm not here as a representative of the DMLE, but I have to know. Depending on what you tell me, I can assure you that the Headmaster need not hear it from me".
"OK, it was Fred and George Weasley".
"And why would they be in Snape's office?"
"I'm not exactly sure, but they were hinting at something more than their Canary Cremes creation. They said it was a secret. Probably looking to nick some of Snape's rarer ingredients. They've done it before. They never took any exam keys".
"I'll forget I heard that, now let's get you back to the airliner, and no more midnight wanderings, understood?"
"Yes, Professor".
Harry was relieved Moody didn't ask more about the Map. So long as it remained open, Moody wouldn't see its splash screen and would not know about Prongs, Moonie, Wormtail, or Padfoot. Harry hated losing the Map, but it was a necessary price to pay for Moody's silence and possible future co-operation.
The next day, he told Fleur about the clue, reciting the poem.
"You have to listen under vater? 'Ow did you figure zat out?"
Harry explained about remembering that Star Trek movie, and figured it was worth a try.
"Brilliant", she congratulated, "Vhot does zat mean?", she asked.
"If they can't sing above ground, then it's safe to say it isn't a bird or gryphon or something like that. Whoever they are, they're going to take something that we'll need to search for, and we'll have one hour to find and recover it. I haven't given it much thought since first hearing it", he admitted. He was still thinking about his narrow escape from Filch and Snape.
"Search vere our voices sound?", Fleur asked. "You 'eard eet under zee vater, so, maybe, zat is vere zere voices sound, under vater".
"You mean, in the lake?"
"Zat is zee logical conclusion".
Harry asked Hermione during a study hall: "You know what lives in the lake?"
"Does this have anything to do with the clue to the next task?"
"No comment".
"You're supposed to work it out on your own, the rules..."
"The same rules that said only seventeen and older could enter? Those rules?"
"Good point. You didn't read your Hogwarts: A History did you?"
"Can't say I really got around to it, just skimmed it for the highlights".
"Well, if you had, you would know the lake is home to a giant squid..."
"I know, everyone knows".
That much was true as students would go to the lake, throw in bread and crackers, and it would come up. The braver students even swam with it.
"There are also grindylowes, and a colony of merpeople. Dumbledore has cultivated a relationship with them, winning their trust, and he even learned Mermish, one of the few wizards fluent in their language. It was all in the book".
"Thanks".
"You'd best be getting back to studying", she reminded.
"I know", he said.
That solved one problem, but presented another: how to find the merpeople, and especially how to handle breathing underwater. An aqualung would come in handy, but he doubted they were available anywhere in Hogsmeade. So far inland, probably no dive shops in Dufftown, the closest muggle town some twenty miles distant.
0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
"I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!", Harry exploded at breakfast.
"What..."
"This!", he handed over the Daily Prophet turned to an inside page. "Zoological column my ass!"
DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE
It is well known that Albus Dumbledore is the most eccentric Headmaster the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has had since Phineas Nigellus Black. He has not shied away from controversy in hiring staff, or accepting students such as werewolves. One such appointment is the Game Keeper, Keeper of the Keys, and Care of Magical Creatures professor – one Rubius Hagrid, a man of fierce countenance and disposition. Contrary to his claims, Mr. Hagrid isn't a pure blood wizard: he isn't even completely human.
This reporter has uncovered the identity of his mother: the giant Wulfried. As you are undoubtedly aware, Britain's giant population dwindled to the point of near extinction due to their constant wars over the past century. Those that remained willingly joined forces with Hewhomustnotbenamed, and were responsible for a great many murders of muggles during the last wizarding war. The aurors killed those in the employ of the self styled Dark Lord. It is not known if Wulfried was among those casualties, or if she went to join one of the giant communities living in the mountains of eastern Europe. What is known is that she abandoned her son, being that love – even maternal love – is a foreign concept to giants.
Professor Hagrid readily admitted to this reporter that he was expelled from Hogwarts after a succession of disciplinary actions related to his life long obsession with monsters. Then Headmaster Armando Dippett and Transfigurations Professor Albus Dumbledore secured for him the position of Game Keeper after his expulsion. Headmaster Dumbledore appointed him Keeper of the Keys, and four years ago, he charmed his way into the Care of Magical Creatures professorship, over more qualified candidates. Fourth year student Ted Nott:
"Last year, as if the Blast Ended Skrewts weren't bad enough, his hyppogryph damn near took my arm off. My friend, Vincent Crabbe, suffered a nasty bite from a flobberworm. We all hate him, but are too afraid to speak up".
Blast Ended Skrewts are hybrids of manticores and fire crabs which Professor Hagrid created. The Department of Magical Wildlife has regulations regarding breeding such potentially dangerous creatures, but Mr. Hagrid considers himself above such petty things such as laws and regulations. "I was just having a wee bit of fun", are his exact words. So far, Headmaster Dumbledore has, once again, demonstrated his irresponsible mismanagement of Hogwarts by indulging his Care of Magical Creatures professor. It would seem that Albus Dumbledore learned nothing during his recent hiatus imposed by the Board of Governors after his failure to detect a professor possessed by Hewhomustnotbenamed for an entire term. I mean the unfortunate Quirinius Quirrel, the late Defense Against the Arts Professor Dumbledore hired two years ago.
In a curious turn of events, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and another student, Miss Hermione Granger, count Mr. Hagrid as one of their closest friends. Do they know of his background? Has the Headmaster warned his students about the true nature of their beloved Care of Magical Creatures professor? Should such a "person" be allowed to teach students?
This reporter leaves it to you to decide.
– Rita Skeeter
"Damn her!", Harry said after Hermione had finished reading. "How in the hell did she find out?"
"What do you mean?"
"During the Ball, Pansy and I came across Hagrid while he was talking to Madam Maxime in the garden. That's when we heard him say he was half-giant, but Skeeter wasn't there! I'm sure we would have seen her, unless… she was using an invisibility cloak?"
Didn't Dumbledore finally ban her from the campus? How could she get by the wards?"
"I don't know… If only I still had the Map..."
"You don't? What happened to it? You lose it?"
"I had to lend it to Mad Eye, the price of his silence when I sneaked up to the prefects' bathroom to hear the egg's message".
"Maybe she didn't overhear. You said it yourself: Hagrid doesn't know when to shut up when you get him going about critters. Skeeter could have steered the conversation any way she wanted. She's pretty good at that: getting her marks to say more than they intended.
"We should drop by and see how Hagrid's doing after class. I hope he hasn't seen that article".
"He's seen it all right", Nott called from the Slytherin table, "we made sure of that. Looks like the big oaf's days as a professor are numbered", he, Crabbe, and the rest of the Death Eater wannabes laughed.
Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking.
After class, they went to see Hagrid. They knocked on the door, Fang began frantic barking and scratching at the door, but no Hagrid.
"C'mon, open up", Harry called out. "It's us, Harry and Hermione!"
For the first time, no Hagrid.
"Maybe he went out?", Hermione said.
0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
That weekend, two days after the article about Hagrid came out, Harry and Hermione were in the library. They'd gone through: Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts, Weird Wizarding Dilemmas, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, Anthology of 18th Century Charms, Dreadful Denizens of the Deep. So far, nothing about how to spend an hour underwater.
"You know, we're over thinking again", Harry said as he closed Madcap Magic for Whacky Wizards.
"How do you mean? If we don't find something before the 24th..."
"The Tournament was restricted to those seventeen and up, right?"
"So..."
"So the answer has to be in a Seventh Year charms text, something you'd learn in the upper classes. I bet Flitwick knows something".
"You can't ask help, you know that, and so does Flitwick".
"We don't have to say it's part of the Tournament. We don't even have to ask for a recommend, just confirmation that such a charm exists. After that, we'll know where to look.
"Now, how about joining the others in Hogsmeade. Maybe we'll meet up with Hagrid".
At the Three Broomsticks, no Hagrid. They did, however, see Ludo Bagman.
"What's he doing here?", Hermione asked. "There's no Triwizard events scheduled until the 24th, is there?"
"None that I know of", Harry agreed.
Bagman was at a table in the back, chatting with a trio of goblins. It looked to be an amicable meeting. He signed a paper they presented him. The goblins shook hands all around, and Bagman saw them to the door.
"Harry!", he greeted. "How're you making out with the clue?"
"Fine, just fine", Harry didn't reveal everything he knew. "Why would you ask?"
"Well, you were entered in a most unusual way, after all. And as the youngest contestant, I feel a certain responsibility".
"So what brings you to Hogsmeade? There weren't any special events scheduled?"
"Just taking care of some unfinished business with the goblins. Wasn't easy as they weren't real fluent in English. Like the Bulgarians at the World Cup, but at least they were making themselves better understood though sign language. They were looking for Barty Crouch..."
"Looking here?", Harry asked suspiciously. "Why aren't they looking in London, at the Ministry? Don't goblins usually interact with the Ministry through the Department of Magical Wildlife or the Goblin Liaison Office?"
"That's true, but Mr. Crouch has been making himself scarce lately. He hasn't been into the office since the Triwizard Ball, and has been relying on his assistant, Percy Weasley. Percy said he's been owling instructions every day. Very peculiar, to say the least, and Mr. Weasley has been saying he's convalescing from over work".
"That doesn't look right. Mr. Crouch goes to all the effort to reestablish the Tournament, yet doesn't bother to come to the traditional Ball? Has anyone from the Ministry checked up on him? See if he's well?"
"Percy said he knows his boss's handwriting, and that no one is forging the owlposts he's been receiving. No reason not to believe him, and he shows the letters to persons around the office. He has to, as he's not the only one receiving instructions from Mr. Crouch. So far, the office has been running smoothly, so no reason to bother Mr. Crouch. I imagine it's been difficult for him, after he dismissed his house elf. Probably not too used to doing his own cleaning, cooking, laundry, yard work, and house keeping. He really should hire a house keeper or get a new elf".
"Making any progress locating Bertha Jorkins?"
"Not a dicky bird. We do know she arrived in Albania, took in the sights in the north of the country. Said she was on her way to visit a second cousin who lives in the south, but her cousin says she never arrived. Somewhere along the way, she disappeared. Not a trace".
"Isn't that unusual? A bit suspicious, I'd say".
"This is Bertha we're talking about. She's had memory problems, and is rather scatter brained. Who knows? Maybe she met someone and eloped? Anyway, congratulations on your win against the dragon, and much luck on the second task".
"I don't like it", Harry told Hermione, "the whole Ministry seems awfully incurious. One official goes missing on holiday, another turns recluse all of a sudden, and no one seems to give a damn. If I suddenly couldn't make it to work, I'd like to think at least one of my colleagues would make an effort to see how I was doing".
"Uh-oh", Hermione said.
Rita Skeeter and her photographer walked in through the door. She was wearing banana yellow robes.
"Ludo Bagman was always a terrible liar", she was saying, "showing those goblins the sights? Who believes that? Disgraced Head of Magical Games and Sports consorting with goblins: how's that for the title of an article? Maybe we should look for a story to go along with the title? Too good to waste..."
"Planning on ruining another life?", Harry said it loudly enough to make certain Skeeter overheard.
"Harry!", she greeted. "I didn't see you sitting there. So any news on the Triwizard front?', she asked.
Hermione stood: "You horrible woman! How could you do that to Hagrid? He trusted you!"
Hermione held her glass of butterbeer as though she was going to throw the contents right in Skeeter's face. Madam Rosemerta didn't notice that the flagon she was filling with mulled wine was over flowing.
"Sit down, you silly little girl. Don't attempt to discuss subjects you know nothing about. The public has a right to know what's going on so that they can make informed choices. As for Ludo Bagman, I could tell you things about him that would curl your hair… not that yours needs it".
Skeeter addressed Harry: "If you really think my article about the Care of Magical Creatures Professor was unfair, then how about an interview?", she took out her Quick Quotes Quill and parchment roll. "You can tell me all about the Hagrid you know, how you became such close friends..."
"Forget it, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot broomstick..."
Madam Rosemerta was coming from around the bar: "Take it outside", she demanded, "I won't have this in my bar".
This is when Harry noticed the crowd had gone silent, all eyes on him, Hermione, Skeeter and her photographer.
"C'mon", Skeeter said to her companion, as she got up to leave.
"You shouldn't have done that, Earnie MacMillen told Hermione, "you do not want to be pissing off Rita Skeeter. She'll come after you now".
"She can't scare me off. My parents don't read the Prophet, so she has nothing on me".
"She'll dig something up, she always does. She won't give up".
Harry hoped that the reason Bagman and the goblins were getting along so well was that they had been paid what they were owed. He hoped the extra 50,000 Galleons was enough to buy Bagman off in time for the next task.
"Harry, we need to try to see Hagrid again", Hermione said. "We can't allow him to let Skeeter get to him like this".
She led the way back to the campus, and the Game Keeper's cabin.
"Open up!", she demanded as she banged on the door. "We know you're in there!"
Fang was barking, and finally, the door opened.
"Hag… Professor?", Dumbledore answered the persistent knocking. "We were looking for Hagrid"
"So I gathered. Come on in", he stood aside.
Hagrid was sitting at the table, red-eyed, a pot of tea in front of him.
"How boud a wee bit uv thuh hair o' thuh dog?", he said.
"You've had quite enough", Dumbledore said. "You've been neglecting your visitors, among other things, I might add".
"You can't let Skeeter get to you like this", Hermione said.
"Otherwise, she wins", Harry completed that thought, "I've had more than enough bad publicity from that bird cage liner she writes for. Who the hell cares if you're half-giant? We know you and know what you and your classes are like, and we know you'd never do anything to harm anyone. As for what people you don't know, whom you've never met, whom you will never meet, think, who gives a rat's ass?"
"Isn't this what I've been saying?", Dumbledore asked. "Here's your living proof".
"Whud boud thuh p'fessership? Thuh parents'll be wanning me dismissed..."
"I get owls every week from someone, somewhere, complaining about how I do things. That doesn't mean I do everything they demand. Here is what I wanted to show you", Dumbledore pulled two packets from the inside of his robes.
"This one", he pointed to the small package, "is all the letters demanding that I dismiss you. This one", he pointed to a much thicker packet, "are letters from all your former students, praising your classes, and warning that they will pull donations and endowments if I dismiss you over Skeeter's article.
"Hagrid: I must refuse to accept your resignation", he took out a sheet of parchment and tore it in two. Take the weekend off; I expect you at the staff table Monday morning at 8:30 sharp".
"I bin a rye idiot", Hagrid said. Course yer rye. I 'pologize fer me conduct".
"I know what it's like", Harry said, "having bullshit written about me. It's not pleasant".
"There's an old muggle saying: 'The best revenge is living well'. Come back to class and teach it how you think is best. That'll show Skeeter what she means to you: nothing", Hermione added.
"Ah never did show ye a pic of my Dad", Hagrid said as he rummaged through a drawer. He found the photo that moved like an animated GIF. In that photo, Hagrid was clean shaven, face round and pink.
"Tahs taken juss beferr Ah leff fer Hogwarts. I weren't no great shakes at magic, but Dumblederr accepted me inniways. Dass thuh thing boud Dumblederr: he believes in givin' mose innibuddy a chance, if'n dey have inny tallen at awl. Mose of ter Heads would'na done thah".
In that photograph, Hagrid looked to be somewhere around seven feet tall, judging by an apple tree in the background.
"Dad, he died durin my second year, an Ah been on my own ever since", he explained. "Sad thing, but at leass he dint see me ezpelled from Hogwarts. He say" 'Doan be payin' attention ter them's what's judgmental. If'n ye canna respect yourseff, den nobuddy goan respect ye'. He was rye. Alla ye's rye".
"Always remember", Harry told him, "llegitimi non carborundum"
"Whuss dah mean?"
"Don't let the bastards wear you down".
"He's giving you good advice", Dumbledore reminded.
"I'll get that Skeeter if it's the last thing I ever do", Hermione promised.
"I know I'm not your Headmaster", Dumbledore said, "but I am compelled to advise that you do no such thing. Rita Skeeter can be a formidable enemy".
"I'll take that under advisement", Hermione said.
"See that you do".
0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
"Professor Flitwick, may I have a moment?", Harry caught up to the Charms professor after his class.
"What is it?", he asked.
"Do you know of any spells or charms that will allow you to remain under water for an hour or more?"
"Is this about the Tournament? You know the rules: you aren't to ask help from outside sources".
"I know you can't tell me what the spell is, or even if one exists. You could, however, tell me if one doesn't exist. No violation of the rules there, is there?"
"You'd best be getting to your next class", Professor Flitwick said. "Good day, Mr. Potter".
Harry and Hermione were in the library, looking through sixth year charms texts.
"Are you sure?", she asked.
"Flitwick implied as much when I talked with him".
"He wouldn't say..."
"He could say if there wasn't one, and he didn't say there wasn't one. If it's not here, then a fifth year, or a seventh year text. Sure beats having to go through every damn book in the library at random".
"Here, this looks promising", Harry announced, "the Bubble Head charm. Says here it can be used in noxious environments to shut out toxic fumes… I wonder why Snape never mentioned it? Worth a try".
"But where..."
"We practice in the Room of Requirement".