Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Chapter Thirteen
"Udderly Horrific"
AKA
"Copypasta Strikes Back"
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"Are you sure this is safe?" Hermione asked for the fourteenth time.
Harry glanced over his shoulder to glare at her again. It wasn't a very nice thing to do, but he was getting a little tired of the question. She'd been asking it over and over since they started down the path toward the Forbidden Forest.
"'mione, it's fine, okay?"
"They call it the Forbidden Forest, Harry. I could be wrong, but I think there's probably a good reason they don't want us going there," she complained.
Harry shrugged. "Of course there is. It's because of all the dangerous monsters Hagrid keeps there. It'd be silly to call it 'The Happy Forest Full of Friendly Bunnies' or something."
Hermione stopped short, causing both Harry and Neville to do the same. "Wait. He lives in the Forbidden Forest, which is forbidden because he fills it with monsters? He deliberately puts things that might try to eat him where he lives?"
Harry snorted. "I don't think there's too many things stuipid enough to try and eat Hagrid, 'mione."
"Gran says he killed a dragon with a knife," Neville whispered in awe. "It was just a small dragon, but…"
"He used a knife?" Harry asked, clearly surprised. "Wow. He must've felt like giving it a chance, then."
Hermione half turned to face the castle, giving it a hopeful look. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if being invited to tea by a dragon-murdering giant is a good thing. Why am I coming with you again?"
"Because you're my friend, and friends do things like this. You are my friend, aren't you, Hermione?" Harry asked, deploying his best sad puppy look.
Hermione broke in a matter of seconds, sighing and slumping slightly. With obvious reluctance, she started walking down the path again. "Next time I'm doing a lot worse than pushing Fred down the stairs in front of Professor McGonagall. I was so sure the lecture would be long enough to get me out of this."
"You realize you just admitted to trying to maim one of our friends so you didn't have to go to tea, right?" Neville asked in disbelief. "I mean, in front of Harry and everything…"
Hermione shot him a disappointed look. "Neville, if I was trying to maim the idiot he would've spent a lot longer than a few hours in the Hospital Wing. Besides, Harry blatantly guilt-tripped me into coming."
"She's right. I totally did," Harry said with a smile, holding Hagrid's letter up to the light.
"And you're not supposed to admit things like that in front of Hermione, Harry," Neville groaned.
"Why not? Aren't good friends honest with each other?" Harry asked. "Why shouldn't I be honest?"
Hermione shot Neville a suspicious look through narrowed eyes. "I don't know, Harry. Maybe Neville doesn't consider us to be good friends."
"You know that's not what I meant," Neville sighed. "If you really have to blackmail and threaten our friends, I guess it's better to do it openly," he conceded. "It might be better to… you know… not do it at all."
"Oh, Neville. You're so cute when you're hopelessly and unrealistically optimistic," Hermione said indulgently.
The young wizard closed his eyes and breathed in a slow, calming breath as she patted him on the head.
"You guys know I'm not really going to make you come if you don't want to, right?"
"Harry, it's not that I don't want to come," Hermione answered. "It's just that I'm pretty sure being brutally killed and eaten is bad for your health."
"Oh, come on! You're not going to… be…" Harry trailed off as they rounded the bend, giving him his first close-up view of the Forbidden Forest. It took several seconds before his brain finally registered what his eyes were seeing.
It occurred to Harry that the Forest of Imminent Death would be a better name for the Forbidden Forest, or possibly the Forest Where Something is Guaranteed to Eat Your Face.
The Forbidden Forest was dark, far darker than should reasonably be possible. The trees were thick and large, but that didn't justify the sudden, heavy shadows that began just before the first trunks. It almost looked like someone had hung a black curtain from the first branches.
Runes had been carved deep into the tree trunks starting about ten meters in. They formed a very obvious line that, presumably, ran the entire perimeter of the wood. They glowed a soft red color, lacing the darkness with a faint red light. It was just bright enough that it didn't do much to dispel the shadows, but managed to make the whole area look like it had been bathed in blood.
And things moved in the darkness. Close enough to be obvious, but far enough from the runes that they were little more than amorphous blobs.
"So, think they're still serving lunch?" Harry asked. Without missing a beat, he spun back around to face the castle.
He didn't even make it a full step before Hermione's hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him cold.
"Harry, whatever are you doing?" she asked sweetly. Her grin as she did so could only be described as feral. "Hagrid's expecting us for tea, remember? It wouldn't do to keep him waiting."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Neville demanded, "What is wrong with you two? Hermione, you didn't even want to go a second ago!"
"Well, that was before Harry tried to wuss out, wasn't it? He'll never learn if we don't force him to suffer for his poor choices," Hermione explained.
"...so you want to get us all killed just so you can rub it in his face that you were right?"
"If that's what it takes, Neville, then yes."
"Hey! I wasn't wussing out!"
"Sure, of course you weren't," Hermione agreed sarcastically. "You just forgot something in the castle, right?"
Seeing an out, Harry enthusiastically said, "Yes! Exactly!"
"Was it your balls, Harry? Did you forget your balls up in the tower?" the witch snickered. "Because I'm quite certain you don't have any with you right now…"
"Oh, it's on," Harry growled. He immediately turned and started marching toward the forest again.
Still snickering, Hermione muttered, "Easier than killing kittens with a chainsaw," and trailed behind him. It was pretty obvious she was leaving plenty of room, just in case something did try to eat him.
Burying his face in his hands, Neville said, "Orchid? Please wake up."
The put-upon wizard was very glad he'd had the foresight to ask her to stay with him. She had been just a hair annoyed, since she was planning on spending the afternoon trying to get away with molesting a certain bouncy redhead, but agreed readily enough when he explained she could just reschedule.
The creepers lashed around his body wiggled and loosened, then slipped down out of his robes. A moment later Orchid formed in front of him. Giving him a happy smile, she tilted her head and looked at him expectantly.
…?
"Please go in front of Harry and Hermione. If something tries to eat them, eat it first, okay?"
Nodding enthusiastically, the Familiar took off down the path.
The small group made their way into the forest. Orchid took the lead, happily bouncing through the trees while eagerly watching the dark shadows. Harry and Hermione forged boldly ahead just behind her, needling each other as they went. Headwig, perched atop the witch's head, watched the darkness with suspicious eyes. Bringing up the rear was Neville, close enough that he was confident Orchid could cover him and far enough that he wouldn't get dragged into whatever his friends were going on about now.
Something about bears with machine guns fighting rocket-launching seals? And monkey assassins? Yeah, it was probably better off to sit this one out. He had a feeling that whatever it was, it would just hurt his brain to hear it.
That kind of conversation sometimes made him start to wonder if having friends was really a good thing…
Neville wasn't sure whether it was due to the runes lining the path, or if even viscous monsters had a decent sense of self-preservation, but they managed to reach their destination unmolested. Harry and Hermione, despite their bold attitudes, looked just as relieved as Neville felt. Orchid, on the other hand, looked absolutely dejected. She had been eagerly waiting for something to try and eat them, only to be disappointed in the end.
A large wooden cabin was sitting in the middle of the clearing ahead. The was built from huge logs that had clearly been taken from this very forest. Given the thickness of the trees around them, it was a safe bet that the structure would stand up to just about anything.
Given the man who lived there, it was a safe bet the structure might need to stand up against just about anything.
"See? That wasn't so bad, 'mione. Nothing dangerous at all!" Harry said, wiping a bit of nervous sweat off his brow. "Unless you think Mr. Moo-moo there is going to try and suck our eyeballs out."
The three children paused to examine the cow warily. It was a large, black and white beast with plenty of meat on its bones. Currently it was standing next to the cabin with a rope looped around its neck. The other end was tied to a stake driven deep in the ground.
"Mr. Moo-moo isn't going to try and suck our eyeballs out, right?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Well… he looks like a cow," Hermione said, eying it. "Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean it actually is a cow. It might just be trying to get us to lower our guard."
Neville pushed his way past them. "Guys? Even if it isn't a cow, Orchid's going to eat it before it can suck our eyes out, so lets go already. I'll feel a lot better with a wall between me and whatever's in the woods," he snapped, making his way toward the cabin.
"Fine. But if there's some kind of horrible monster behind that door, you're getting the biggest I-told-you-so I can manage. That's pretty big," Hermione announced.
"Guys, I'm pretty sure there's no monster in the cabin," Neville sighed. "Some one give me a hand."
The cabin's door was quite intimidating. The dark wood and iron hinges gave it a somewhat ominous look. It had clearly been built to Hagrid-sized specifications, meaning it dwarfed the three children standing before it. Harry actually had to get a leg up from Neville to reach the knocker. The iron ring made an enormous booming sound as it struck.
Several long moments passed, the trio waiting nervously. Orchid stood behind the eagerly, the tips of a few dozen thorns sliding out of her skin. Harry couldn't help but notice the deadly vines that had curled around and between them, their poison-coated tip shining in the reddish light. Anything that tried to lunge towards the trio was probably in for a nasty surprise.
After what seemed like several long minutes, the doorknob finally turned. Orchid's vines tensed, their thorns growing longer and sharper. As the portal swung open, they breathlessly waited to see what was hidden behind it.
It was a monster.
To be a bit more accurate, it was a monster bulldog.
The dog was far larger than it had any right to be. It was so huge it had to look down at Harry. He wouldn't be surprised if the beast weighed five hundred kilograms. It was the sort of canine you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, a light alley or even the neighborhood's quarterly ice cream social.
The creature's impressive intimidation factor was pretty much negated by the small monocle it wore. The glass lens was set in a golden frame, propped against the dog's left eye. A fine golden chain ran across its cheek and ended at its collar. The collar itself was black and white, with a neat black bowtie. To top it off, the dog was also sporting a rather nice bowler cap, worn at a jaunty angle.
"Woof," the dog said.
The three students stared at the dog for just a moment longer than was strictly polite. Finally, Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs, prompting him to present the invitation he'd received at breakfast.
"Uh… Hagrid invited us for tea."
The dog nodded and turned to face the interior of the cabin and announced, "Woof."
"Well don't just bugger about! Invite them in, you daft beast!" Hagrid's voice called from within the home.
The dog took another look at them, then jerked its head towards the interior. It turned and trotted away, clearly expecting them to follow.
The interior of the cabin was a single, massive room. A large bed was positioned in the back left corner. There was a small kitchenette across from it in the back right. Aside from that, there were only really three things that stood out. Every available bit of wall was covered in books, photographs or heads.
For obvious reasons the heads were what stood out the most. There were dozens of them there, all mounted to wooden plaques. The collection ran along the tops of all four walls, stacked three or four high. The trophies represented an incredible number of creatures from every corner of the globe, both magical and mundane. Hermione didn't recognize all of them off hand, but several of the magical ones seemed to fall somewhere between "I hope you don't like your limbs" and "inform your next of kin" on the danger scale.
Several bookshelves were scattered around, embedded in the walls. Every single one of them was full to the point of overflowing. There were scrolls, sheafs of parchment tied with string, leather-bound tomes, a few things that looked suspiciously like wood or stone tablets and even quite a few muggle paperbacks. There was such a wide array of literature on display that it was almost dizzying.
If a section of wall didn't sport a trophy or bookshelf, there was a good chance it was covered by a photograph. It was a bit hard to tell from a distance, but there seemed to be a fair mix of both muggle and wizard photos.
The only exception to this was on the far wall. Aside from a single door that presumably led to the loo, glass cases were mounted on every inch.
Harry and Neville's eyes widened at the massive collection of weapons on display. Neville might not have been able to identify the large selection of firearms, but he certainly appreciated the knives, swords, machetes, clubs, bows and crossbows. The handguns that would break a normal man's arm and rifles large enough to qualify as small pieces of artillery were more impressive to Harry by far.
Seeing their wide eyes, Hermione muttered, "Boys…" and rolled her eyes.
"Ah, come in, come in," Hargid exclaimed. He was wearing what would have been a rather dapper suit, had it not been covered in purple and neon orange zebra stripes. He gestured towards a large table sitting in the center of the room. "Please, make yourselves at home."
The children looked at each other hand shrugged.
"You… uh… have a lovely home," Hermione declared as she climbed up into the chair. Given how high the chair had to be to sit properly at the table, that was quite a bit of climbing.
Hagrid's face brightened as he sat down. "Built with trees from this very forest. It was a bit of a DIY, but I like to think I made a smashing job of it," Hagrid declared. "Oh, but I'm being a bit of a silly bugger, aren't I? I am Rubeus Hagrid. I'm quite chuffed to meet you both."
"Uh… Hi. I'm Hermione," Hermione responded, looking at the large man warily.
"Neville."
"A twee young lass and Frank Longbottom's sprog," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "You've quite good taste in companions, Harry."
Neville focused on Hagrid with a look of curiosity and hope on his face. "You knew my father?" he asked hesitantly.
"Not very well, I'm afraid. We only worked together on a few occasions," Hagrid said regretfully.
"Oh," Neville said softly. He slumped down in his seat, an obviously dejected look on his face."
Hagrid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I can tell you what he was like from a professional standpoint, I suppose. The man was brave to the point that many of his coworkers thought him a bit wonky. He was also one of the toughest blokes I've met," Hagrid nodded approvingly. "It's no surprise your parents held off the Lestranges and downed a dozen Death Eaters before succumbing."
Neville stared at the giant man with wide eyes. "A dozen?" he echoed in a shocked tone.
"Well… there was a bit of contention on that point. The aurors had a difficult time reconstructing the bodies. Could have been anywhere between ten and fifteen, they said," Hagrid coughed into his hand. "Regardless, your parents were a force to be reckoned with. I've no doubt you'll do them proud. You've the same fierce look about you, after all."
Neville froze, an expression like someone had told him the Earth was a flat disk sitting on the backs of four elephants who were in turn standing on a giant space-turtle's shell on his face.
"Fang old boy, how's that tea coming? I could murder a cuppa!" Hagrid called over his shoulder.
"Woof."
Hermione and Harry paused, then slowly turned their gazes to look past Hagrid. In the kitchenette at the back of the cabin, a dog was making tea. The enormous beast was easily standing on its hind legs, trotting back and forth. Even as they watched, he deftly manipulated a large tea percolator.
"A bit barmy, isn't it?" Hagrid asked.
The pair silently nodded in agreement.
"Imagine brewing tea in such an odd contraption. I keep telling him a kettle is good enough, but he insists on using it. Although… it does make a good cuppa," Hagrid grudgingly admitted. "Still, it's very odd."
"Yeah, that's definitely the weird part," Hermione muttered.
"Totally," Harry agreed.
"Oh dear! I'm afraid I've gone and dropped a clanger. I assumed your familiar would have little interest in tea, so I took the liberty of preparing the bovine outside for her."
Orchid, still standing behind Neville, slowly turned her hopeful gazed down towards her master.
Neville sighed, "Fine. But don't make a mess. I'd really rather not have to think about how it got there..."
Orchid nodded enthusiastically and happily bounced out of the cabin.
"Mr. Moo Moo…" Hermione whispered.
"She was really disappointed nothing tried to eat us on the way here," Harry said as he examined Hermione's greenish complexion, "So it's good the gets to have some fun."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Harry was a little nervous walking through the forest, so we used Orchid as a meat shield. Uh, plant shield," Hermione explained in response to Hagrid's inquiring look. She tried very hard not to think about the fact than an enormous dog had just put a cup of tea down before her.
"I was the nervous one?" Harry demanded.
Hermione nodded. "Very good, Harry. It takes a respectable man to admit he was frightened."
"Exercising a spot of caution is always a good thing, but there's no need to go collywobbles," Hagrid said, reaching over to give Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "The ward fence does a smashing job at keeping the nasties contained."
"Yeah, Harry, don't go collywobbles on us," Hermione snickered.
"Indeed. The only thing that ever gets past the wards, aside from the damn turbo weasels, is that blasted Nemean Lion. I've no idea how the bloody thing does it, but he does. Drives me bonkers and I'm certain he knows it," Hagrid complained.
Hermione went pale.
Harry watched curiously as Fang trotted around the table and sat down on a cushion next to Hagrid. The dog raised a front paw and used it to lift a teacup, taking a small sip. "A Nemean lion?"
"I brought him here as a cub. Thought he'd make a challenging quarry," Hagrid explained. "He's proven to be a bit more resilient than I'd thought. I've been chasing the blasted bugger around for two years and I'm not even sure I've dented his hide. It's gotten to the point where he's something of an old chum now."
"Oh. That makes sense," Harry muttered. He was a little surprised (and concerned) to realize the comment had been completely sincere. Shaking it off, he tried a sip of his tea. "Um… this is really good tea, Fang."
"Woof," the dog responded with a nod.
"Hagrid… you said you worked with dad. What did you do?" Neville asked curiously.
Hagrid's enormous finger tapped the table as he frowned in thought. "In my younger days I was an avid hunter and travelled much of the globe. On occasion some sad arse would poke something with a stick, then hire me when it poked back. A pest-removal sort of thing, I suppose," Hagrid explained.
Harry examined an enormous insectile head hanging on the wall. It was like someone inflated a scorpion to three hundred times the size, given it an extra set of eyes, then made it the stuff of nightmares.
Well, more than it already was.
"Oh," was all he could think of to say.
"The ministry hired me on more than one occasion. Charging in and casting spells is admirable in its own right, but it is a far cry from the cunning and skill true hunting requires. They may find my methods distasteful-" he gestured towards the gun display. "-but results are all that matters. In the end, I suppose hiring me was better than requesting a breaker from the ICW."
"What's a breaker?" Hermione queried.
"Scary…" Neville answered. "Gran doesn't like them at all. She says they're dangerous and crazy."
"The first is most certainly true. The second is varies, but is accurate more often than not," Hagrid agreed.
"Okay, so they're insane. That's great. But what is a breaker?" Hermione repeated.
"The International Confederation of Wizards' Magical Crisis Intervention Agents. They're essentially elite, ICW-backed hitwizards," Hagrid explained. "The ICW loans them to countries that are unable to deal with magical disasters, cursed relics or magical beasts on their own. They're colloquially known as 'Breakers' due to their tendency to solve problems in a very final and frequently messy manner. They have a bit of a bad reputation, due to the chaos and destruction they often leave in their wake."
Harry was clearly impressed. "And they just let them run around doing that?"
"There's a reason calling for a Breaker is something magical governments take very seriously," Hagrid chuckled. "Some are just barmy, but I think they get a bit of a bad rap. Most are quite reasonable when they're not blowing something up. Just look at Minerva. She'd give you a good bollocking, but she's not likely to set you aflame. Well, not unless you really deserve it."
"Minerva… that sounds familiar…" Hermione muttered.
"It would be a bit odd if it didn't, I suppose. She's the head of your house," Hagrid announced.
"..."
"So, let's not get her mad," Harry suggested."That's… probably a really good idea," Neville agreed.
"Hagrid. I'm curious. Fang's your familiar, right?"
Hagrid nodded. "That he is. The old boy's the finest canine gentleman you'll ever meet."
"So, how exactly do you go from being a wizard to shooting things in the face with muggle firearms? Most wizards can't even get the word 'firearm' right most of the time, let alone use them."
"That.. is a sad story, I'm afraid. A sad one, but one with a smashing end," Hagrid pronounced as he rose from his chair. "Just one moment."
The trio watched Hagrid walk over and begin searching a bookshelf.
"Woof?"
Harry considered the percolator the large dog was holding aloft. "Oh, no thank you. I've had enough."
"Ooh, I'll have more," Hermione proclaimed. "It's quite lovely."
"Woof," Fang said happily, pouring her another cup.
"Here we are," Hagrid announced, dropping a rather large book onto the table. Flipping it open, he proudly pressed a finger upon one of the photographs held within. "This is my lord and patron, The Most Honorable Andrew Quartermain, 7th Earl of Funnyrock."
Three students stared at the photo curiously.
"He's wearing a pirate hat. It has poofy feathers and everything," Harry observed.
"Is that a bottle of rum in his hand?" Hermione asked. "And why does he have a fistful of one pound notes?"
Neville's eyes widened. "Those girls in the back… they're not wearing much…"
"Ah, yes. My lord threw that party just before we left Jamaica. We were down there hunting chupacabra and he wanted to thank the locals for their help. He was always the thoughtful type."
Hermione frowned. "Hagrid, there's no chupacabra in Jamaica…"
"Not anymore, there isn't," the half-giant said proudly.
"Is he arguing with a parrot in this one?"
Hagrid gave Harry an amused grin. "Oh yes, I remember that! Lord Quartermain was completely gassed that night. He and the parrot spent two hours screaming, 'Stop copying me!' at each other before he sobered up enough to realize what he was doing."
"He's carrying a basket of kittens and wearing a shirt that says, 'Ask me about my pussy,' here."
"He was one of the most noble and honorable men you were ever likely to meet. He treated other with the respect they were due, regardless of their station. He always did what was right and was refined to a T in any setting that required it," Hagrid said. "In every other situation, he was quite barmy. He said to me one day, 'Hagrid, being refined is fine, but that doesn't mean you can't get blitzed out of your mind, pretend that's why you suck at darts and use an improvised crossbow to fire darts made of rolled-up thousand pound notes at homeless men.'"
"Huh. I guess that fits his title. Where is Funnyrock, by the way?" Hermione asked. "I've never heard of it before."
Hagrid chuckled and replied, "Buggered if I know."
There was a brief moment of confused silence.
"You don't know where your lord's domain is?" Hermione asked in disbelief.
"No one does, at least as far as I know."
The confused silence lasted a lot longer than a moment this time. The students exchanged a quick look, then Hermione smacked Neville in the back of the head.
"Why?" Neville immediately asked.
"Well, it's a bit of a nutty tale, really. You see, my lord's full title was 'Earl of That Funny Looking Rock About A Twenty Minute Hike North of the Castle In Moderate to Fair Weather, Just West of That Weird Tree.'" Hagrid chuckled. "As you may have guessed, there are quite a few trees and rocks in that direction, and how far 'twenty minute's walk' is has been a point of contention."
Hermione, judging by the look on her face, had decided Hagrid was completely mental. "You're kidding, right?"
"Of course not. You see, in the middle of a weeklong bender, King William the Fourth decreed that the first person who brought him the 'cutest fucking kitty' would be granted peerage. Because he was positively steaming at the time, not even he knew which rock he meant. Historians have been debating it for nearly two centuries."
"I'm starting to think I might hate this world. Not the wizarding world, mind you. The world in general," Hermione groaned. "So how did you hook up with this guy?"
Hagrid sighed and looked just a little depressed. "When I was a student, I was a bit of a berk. I put myself in a rather bad position. My magical core was sealed and my wand was snapped."
"What?" Harry exclaimed in shock. "Why!?"
"There was a bit of a misunderstanding involving a murder that took place in the very halls of Hogwarts. Because of my poor choices, it was easy for the bloody wanker that did it to shift the blame to me. Called down the rozzers right after and everything went balls up."
Harry, Hermione and Neville were clearly absolutely aghast.
"That's horrible!" Hermione shouted. "How could something like that happen? Don't they have magic that can figure out who killed the guy?"
Nodding, Hagrid replied, "Indeed they do, but I'm afraid I was buggered even before the trial began. I'm half-giant, you see. There's a lot of knob-heads around here that think I'm guilty simply by existing. It was either lose my magic or be an old lag."
"That's… probably the worst thing I've ever heard," Hermione whispered. "Why didn't you just do your time?"
Surprisingly, it was Neville who answered. "Because wizarding prison is a really, really bad place. Even the higher floors can crush a bloke. Depending on who died, he might have ended up way underground…"
"Exactly," Hagrid said, nodding in approval. "So my wand was snapped and I went to a Muggle bar to get absolutely pissed and forget my sorrows. The silly berks would never expect someone my size to be a lad, so they didn't even question it." There was a faint chuckle. "My lord took it upon himself to sit with a manky fool. Learning that I had no money, no home and no future, he declared that he needed a porter and had been searching for a man my size. Took me in and I was his manservant for years."
The pride in Hagrid's voice as he said that came as a bit of a shock for Harry. He'd been used as a servant (or possibly slave) for years, and hated every minute of it. How could someone be so happy to be treated like that?
"He sounds amazing," Hermione said. "I would've liked to meet him."
"He was my most beloved companion," Hagrid replied solemnly.
"Woof!" Fang objected indignantly.
"Oh, don't frig about, Fang. A Familiar is no mere companion and you know it!"
Fang thought for a moment, then shrugged and conceded, "Woof."
Laughing, Hagrid gave his Familiar an affectionate pat on the head. It was a blow that could probably crush any of the first-years. Fang tilted his head at the last moment to save his lovely bowler hat.
The dog gave Harry a long-suffering look, as if he couldn't believe how unrefined his master could be.
"Don't let the old boy fool you. There was few thing he liked better than going on a romp with our lord. He's never looked more alive than he does vaulting a pitfall or dodging a spike trap!" Hagrid announced.
"...spike trap?"
Hagrid nodded and quickly rifled trough the pages of the album. Finally he settled on a page dominated by a large picture. In it, the Lord of Funnyrock was straddling a massive metal spike protruding from the wall, gripping it with both hands. Judging by the grin on his face, he knew exactly how perverted the situation looked.
The page across from it sported another picture of the very same lord. He was perched atop something that looked like a swinging pendulum, holding the chain with one hand and laughing hysterically.
"My lord was quite the adventurer. He was always searching for the lost and hidden, or even just a new thrill. It was from him I learned my love of hunting," Hagrid explained. "He was especially fond of more… exotic game."
The three stared at a picture of Lord Quartermain posing with one foot up on the middle head of a cerberus.
"He called that one Fluffy," Hagrid chuckled. "Could you even imagine giving a cerberus such a foolish name?"
"You told him about magic! Hagrid, that's illegal!" Hermione gasped.
"Told him? Of course not. There's more than a few lads in the muggle world that are well aware of it. Monsters and curses and such," Hagrid said. "Why, if the sods upstairs knew how many Class-A Restricted objects the Crofts alone had in their care, they'd go spare!"
Hermione looked back at him with wide eyes. "Wait, the Crofts? As in the Croft Museum of World Artifacts? But their family has been debunking ancient legends for generations!"
"Indeed. They've 'debunked' legends about some of the most ancient and powerful artifacts in history. Rather amusing, considering that most are completely valid and the Crofts are well aware of that," Hagrid chuckled. "Over half the objects in their museum are truly enchanted, and some are quite dangerous."
"But who would bother with a 'fake' artifact? Because they're just putting them out for all to see, they must be fake," Hermione reasoned, her face lighting up in understanding. "They're hiding them in plain sight!"
Hagrid nodded and stood. "Quite well reasoned. Now, I think I've waffled on and filled your clocks with a enough codswallop. You'd best get back to the castle. I believe your free period is about to end."
The children nodded in agreement and quickly finished their tea, a process that took slightly longer than it should have due to Fang's sudden decision to dump the remainder into a thermos for Hermione. As they were turning to leave, Hagrid strode over and pressed something into Neville's hands.
The trio looked at the object with great curiosity.
It was a sheaf of parchment slightly smaller than a muggle notebook. Leather cord bound them together into a single mass. The parchment itself was a mismatched mess, may of the sheets being a different thickness, size or color.
The dark red stains on the cover didn't look like they came from jam.
"That belonged to a good friend of mine. I think passing it along to you would make him rather happy, especially given your Orchid," Hagrid explained.
Neville stared at it uncertainly. "'Belonged' to him? Then he-"
"-has no further use for it, of that I'm certain," Hagrid finished. "I've also been tasked with providing the occasional live meal for your Familiar."
"More Mr. Moo-Moo?" Hermione whispered in horror.
Hagrid nodded solemnly. "Distasteful as it may seem, the alura une is a spirit that thrives on living prey. It is unlikely she will be completely satisfied if she eats nothing but roast turkey and the like. It could quite possibly be detrimental to her health as well."
Neville grimaced. "I- I get it. We should… probably go get her now."
The three quickly left the cabin, steeling their stomachs as they rounded the corner. What they saw there made them freeze in their tracks.
"Okay, were either of you guys expecting this?" Hermione asked.
Harry and Neville stared at Orchid, who was perched atop Mr. Moo-Moo's back, happily riding him around the pen.
"You know… not that I'm complaining… but there's a lot less blood than I was expecting," Harry proclaimed.
Neville nodded and agreed, "A lot less blood."
"Should we just take her back to the castle?" Hermione wondered. "We could spare Mr. Moo-Moo his terrible fate."
"You heard what Hagrid said, though. It might not be good for her," Neville said reluctantly.
Harry motioned toward the familiar. "Right. Knock yourself out, then."
"What? Why do I have to tell her!?"
Neville," Hermione sighed. "She's your Familiar. That means you get to deliver Mr. Moo Moo's death sentence."
"Why couldn't I have the catgirl…" Neville muttered.
"Neville? She rubbed 'jam' all over my face. At least you just have to watch it."
"...right. Well, sucks to be Mr. Moo-Moo, I guess," Neville sighed. "Hey, uh, Orchid?"
Catching sight of her master, the plant waved happily. Just as she did, Mr. Moo-Moo turned at the end of the enclosure. Orchid's gaze remained on Neville, her vines and flowers reconfiguring so she could swivel her head 180 degrees.
"I'm thinking I should leave the emotional trauma being here inflicts out of my letters to my parents," Hermione said conversationally.
Harry nodded.
"Orchid, you know Mr. Moo-Moo's food, right? I mean, you can keep him as a pet if you want, but that's not what he's for," Neville told his familiar.
She gave him the "confused plant" look.
"Mr. Moo Moo," Neville said slowly, pointing at the cow, "is food," He raised his hands and made a motion similar to Orchid's bloom closing.
The spirit stared at him for a second, then her eyes widened as realization set in.
Over the next 2.7 seconds, Harry and his friends discovered a rather interesting bit of trivia. Alura une, when consuming something they couldn't "enjoy" taking their time with, were extremely messy eaters. The exact details of Mr. Moo-Moo's demise are best left to the imagination.
It is worth noting, though, that there is a very important rule when watching a hungry alura une eat. Any onlookers would be well advised to maintain a certain minimum distance. This was not because of any danger posed by the plant, but more to avoid the peripheral effects of her meal.
To sum it up quite simply: always make sure you're outside the splatter zone.
Harry, Hermione and Neville clearly weren't privy to that particular piece of information.
The three first-years stood by the corner of the cabin, shellshocked looks on their faces. Their faces were a solid red, painted by the same fluid that was plastering their robes to their bodies.
Hermione very slowly turned her head and spit to the side, discharging a large glob of reddish material.
"Oh… you had your mouth open too?" Neville asked.
Hermione nodded wordlessly.
"Well, that makes me feel a little better."
"Guys…" Harry whimpered. "I think I just swallowed a kidney."
Hermione smeared her tongue across the roof of her mouth and spit again. "Do you think that tastes better or worse than a spleen?"
"Well, 'spleen' sounds funner. I don't know if that relevant," Neville whispered. "Can- can you tell I'm crying under the blood?"
"I'm not sure we can tell you're you under the blood."
Orchid happily flounced up to her master and leaned forward to examine his face, cutely clasping her hands behind her back.
"Uh… Orchid?" Hermione muttered. "You've… uh… you've got a little thing…" she advised, making a vague motion.
Orchid stared at her in confusion, then straightened and raised her hand to her face. She felt around for a moment before extracting a strand of viscera from the corner of her mouth. Blushing prettily, she quickly ate it.
"Yeah… that too. I was talking about that, though," Hermione clarified, pointing.
The plant looked down and examined the large loop of cow intestine that was hanging out of her stomach. Frowning at it, she gave it an experimental tug. The messy chunk of bovine stubbornly refused to move. She glared at it again, then shrugged.
Her entire midriff split open into a vicious maw full of thorn-teeth and writhing viney tongues. The jaws came down on the intestines with a squish and dragged them into the thorny hell within her body. A moment later her torso resealed, leaving no sign something that would make Stephen King piss his pants had just occurred.
"You know what would be nice right now?" Harry rhetorically inquired. "Pretty much anything with alcohol in it. I've never actually had alcohol, but I'm pretty sure this is why people start drinking."
"Harry, people start drinking because they lost their jobs. This is why people start snorting cocaine off a hooker's ass in between taking hits off a joint," Hermione disagreed, immediately receiving two shocked looks. "What? So my parents need to screen the dvds I buy a bit better. That's hardly my fault."
"I bet the twins could get us some booze," Harry suggested.
Neville frowned. "Harry, do you really think- Wait, nevermind. I just realized how stupid that question was gonna be."
"You guys can go bum some liquor if you want. I've just realized I feel like spending the rest of the day in the shower," Hermione announced. "You're coming too, you horrific flower full of terror. I need someone to scrape the small intestine off my back, and you just volunteered."
Harry gave her a weird look. A moment later, Neville did the same.
"What? Why are you both staring at me!?" Hermione demanded.
There was a slight tug at Hermione's neck. Frowning in confusion, she turned her head. The motion allowed Headwig to easily yank the slimy string of meat she'd been pulling on out of Hermione's collar. The owl stood there on her shoulder and looked back at her with offending meat hanging from her beak.
Hermione smiled at her Familiar. "Oh, Headwig. Are you trying to clean mommy up? You're such a good girl!"
Headwig stared at Hermione.
Hermione stared at Headwig.
There was a long, drawn-out slurping sound as the strip of cow was slowly sucked into the owl's beak. Headwig chewed a few times, then tilted her head and gave a happy hoot.
"Hermione? I think there's something seriously wrong with your owl…"
"Isn't she cute!?"
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Author's Note
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
So this chapter didn't change a whole lot from the original version in Classic.
Hagrid's master is indeed a descendant of that Quartermain. I felt it was appropriate to time him in a little tighter with the world's adventuring community. Given his adventures, he fits right in with the rest of them.
Breakers are generally viewed as something along the lines of a WMD. They get the job done, but no one wants to have to clean up the mess afterward. The reputation is a fairly unfair one, as there are plenty of Breakers that know how to show restraint. As with so many things, it's just that the loud and flashy types are much more memorable.
Granted, some of them are really loud and really flashy, and most of them are at least a little cracked.
Unless an international thread is involved - that is, something that may cross a border - Breakers can only enter a country if the ruling body requests them.
Don't ask me how Fang became a gargantuan bulldog with a tophat. I don't know why he makes tea, either. I'm pretty sure there was some kind of train of thought that led to that, but hell if I can recall it.