Disclaimer – JKR owns the world and all the characters from the books. I'm just building a few castles in her sandbox.
Chapter 4
The headmaster withdrew him from the Placement center after being required to sign a surprisingly small number of forms. This guy has a lot more influence than any school headmaster I've ever heard of. I wonder if that's why he wore that cloak in Diagon Alley. And why all the personal attention to my case?
Malcolm re-examined all his suspicions as they walked around the corner. He wasn't so much distrustful as careful. He was used to being in an environment where people did not always say what they meant and everyone had their own secrets and goals.
He tightened his grip on the handle of the footlocker balanced awkwardly on his shoulders. It wasn't as heavy as it should have been, not after Dumbledore had discretely tapped it with his wand, but it was still unwieldy. Fortunately, the old man quickly led him into an alleyway. As soon as they were out of sight, he advised Malcolm to brace himself and took a firm grip on the boy's shoulder.
There was an instant of grey dizziness, then they were standing on narrow road that led to a wrought iron archway. Beyond it, the path led through wooded hills to a massive castle set next to a lake. Malcolm's eyes widened and he felt like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him. He looked up at the headmaster.
"I'll never forget, young mister Smith, the first time I myself saw Hogwarts. It's an unforgettable experience, and one to treasure. This will be your home for much of the next seven years, and your gateway to a new world." The old man's eyes were twinkling like mad now.
Malcolm swallowed the lump in his throat, but shuddered as a chill knifed through him. Without knowing why, he looked up and noticed two impossibly tall, emaciated figures flanking the gate, each shrouded in a ragged black cloak. Distantly, he thought he could hear the sounds of an explosion and people screaming faintly.
The figures began to glide forward, impossibly smooth, and the cold grew worse. Malcolm started as he felt Dumbledore's hand squeeze his shoulder. Suddenly, the kindly old man was gone, and Malcolm could feel the anger pouring off of him as he raised his free hand. "Come no further," the headmaster said in a flat tone. "You know who I am and if you interfere you will regret it."
The cloaked figures paused, and then withdrew to their positions flanking the gate. Malcolm ground his teeth together to keep them from chattering, but he walked forward when the headmaster released his shoulder. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the faint sounds echoing in his ears.
The chill faded as soon as they stepped through the arch. Malcolm looked up at the old man. "What the bloody hell are those things?" he asked, cringing at the quaver in his voice.
Dumbledore sighed. "Those are Dementors, the guards of Azkaban, the wizard's prison. A very dangerous man escaped from there two weeks ago, and the Ministry dispatched some of them to Hogwarts in case he attempts to come here. I have forbid," at this his voice lowered and his eyes flashed, making Malcolm swallow reflexively, "them from entering the grounds, but the Ministry insists on placing them to ward the outer boundaries. Do not worry, they will not trespass, and Sirius Black will not dare tempt their wrath."
Malcolm nodded shakily. "What, what was that feeling as we walked by them, I could almost hear… well…"
"Dementors feed on positive emotions and memories… when they are around you will experience your worst memories."
Malcolm whispered, "The bomb…" and shuddered.
The old man squeezed his shoulder even tighter. "Dementors are difficult for even a full-grown wizard to face. Your courage and resiliency serve you well. This, however," he said as he fished a large foil-wrapped rectangle out of his pocket, "should help you recover."
Malcolm shook his head and lowered the footlocker to the grass beside the path, then accepted the object. Writing on the top spelled out "Honeyduke's Best ™" in gold letters. He looked up questioningly.
"Oddly enough, chocolate is an effective counter to the Dementor's chill. Eat that, and the effects should fade… and perhaps Madame Pomfrey will not be quite as annoyed at me." He smiled as Malcolm unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite.
It really was extremely high quality chocolate, and as it melted on his tongue, Malcolm felt warmth spread through his body, driving out the deathly chill. He'd never been that obsessed with sweets, but he'd be willing to eat an entire jar of vegemite to get rid of that feeling. After he finished, he sighed and picked up his footlocker again, nodding to the headmaster.
Dumbledore smiled and led him up the path to the great hall.
During the summer, when there were no students, the staff took their meals together at a smaller round table in the middle of the Great Hall. Some, like the antisocial Potions Master, preferred to eat in their quarters, and no persuasion available to the headmaster could persuade him to change. The majority, however, did gather there, and so Dumbledore was able to introduce young mister Smith to Hagrid.
Malcolm looked up from his dinner, which was quite good, and his eyes widened when the massive half-giant walked into the Great Hall. He'd wondered about the oversized chair he saw parked next to his. Turns out it was barely large enough for the man.
"Ah, there you are Hagrid," the headmaster beamed. "I know you are quite busy getting ready to take over for Professor Kettleburn, and I thought you could use some assistance getting ready for the new term. This young man is Malcolm Smith, one of our new students, who came out a bit early to get adjusted to Hogwarts."
"Malcolm is it?" the enormous man rumbled, eyes glinting above a hedgerow of bushy black beard.
Malcolm just nodded, mouth dry,
"'ad any experience wit' interestin' creatures?" he asked cocking an eyebrow.
"Not a ruddy bit," Malcolm replied.
There was a muted explosion nearby that almost made Malcolm dive for cover. It repeated twice more before he realized that Hagrid was chuckling at him. "Well," he rumbled, "we'll fix that soon, won't we?" The giant man made to pat him on the back, and Malcolm was glad the back of his chair absorbed most of the blow.
For as long as Malcolm could remember, he and his father had lived in a series of embassies, consulates, and diplomatic quarters. Each of these, in turn, had been located within a large city. His experiences within the great outdoors had been limited to a couple of day trips and diplomatic junkets.
In short, he was totally unprepared for his temporary summer job.
He woke up the next morning in the guest chambers. The beds were old-fashioned, but extremely comfortable. The stone floors were a bit chilly, but he was used to walking on cold tiles that were just as hard. Malcolm decided he could get used to living in a castle.
He began to reconsider the first time he noticed the stairway was moving under his feet. His stomach clenched and he grabbed the banister in a death-grip. What the bloody hell is it doing that for? When it finally stopped, Malcolm raced down to what he hoped was a solid floor. The moving paintings were also a little unnerving. He'd thought at first that they were just like those prism-cut pictures that appeared to change as you tilted them. But when he smiled at a portrait of a half-dozen monks sitting at a low table, getting soused on red wine, they all smiled and waved to him. Malcolm swallowed and realized he could hear their voices as well.
The principle behind the magic of Hogwarts seemed to be "If it can make your day a little weirder, expect it to happen."
Finally, he made his way down to the Great Hall. One of the professors looked up at him and smiled. She was a round-faced but kindly looking woman Malcolm thought was introduced as Professor Sprout last night. He imagined he looked a little wild-eyed, and that she'd seen that 'deer in the headlights' look before. He nodded back to her as he felt his face burn. He scooped some eggs onto his plate along with sausages and several rashers of bacon. He rounded this out with some fried potatoes and a couple of pieces of toast.
It was hard not to groan with pleasure as he ate. The food was bloody marvelous here, something he'd not expected at a school. Some of the professors were just eating a pastry, or a bit of toast, but Malcolm found himself craving protein lately. He supposed he was getting ready for a growth spurt, and hoped it didn't make him stand out too much from the other first-years. In less time than he would have believed possible, he cleared his plate. As he'd been instructed, he tapped the plate with his fork and it was suddenly clean. This would put dishwashers out of work if that trick got out, he laughed to himself.
"'ere now Malcolm, ready ter get to it?" a basso rumble made him jump a bit in his chair. He looked up and saw Hagrid, er, Professor Hagrid smiling down at him. How can someone that big move so quietly? Malcolm asked himself as he nodded.
"Alrigh, alrigh. Firs' let me show yer around a bit." With that, Hagrid led him out of the hall.
Their first stop was a large hut at the edge of the forest. Hagrid lived there, as part of his gameskeeper duties. Evidently, he'd just been promoted to Professor as well, which caused him to choke up with emotion every time it came up in conversation. "Great man, Professor Dumbledore is, to give me a chance," he always muttered.
"Yer might want tae leave yer robe here, Malcolm," he rumbled. "Easy tae get it torn up or tangled when were in th' forest."
Malcolm nodded. He was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans under the robe, and was getting a little warm anyway.
Hagrid's eyes twinkled when he saw Malcolm's tee-shirt. "I see yer muggle-born," he said.
"Not quite," Malcolm shrugged, mindful of his cover story. "But I've spent a lot of time in the muggle world." Like all of my bloody life, he though with a rueful grimace.
"Oh, aye, there's nothing wrong with being muggle-born," Hagrid said quickly. "Not that ye'll ever hear the Purebloods admit it. Dumbledore though, he thinks everyone deserves a good magical education. Great man he is, even gave me a chance, being what I am."
Malcolm frowned up at Hagrid. "What are you playing at?" he asked quietly.
Hagrid blinked. "Well," he said with a self-deprecating grin, "I'm not exactly looking like yer average professor, am I?"
Malcolm snorted. "I think if you're going to be messing about with Magical Creatures, it's better to have someone noticeably bigger than the creatures, eh?"
Hagrid stared at him for a moment, and then started chuckling again. He clapped a platter-sized hand to Malcolm's shoulder, which sent him staggering into a pile of split firewood. "Right. Yer a good lad, Malcolm. Aye 'ope ye get sorted into a good house."
As Hagrid began stuffing tools, rolls of cloth, and an odd assortment of bottles into a large carpet bag, Malcolm asked him what he meant by sorting.
Hagrid jumped a little and looked guilty. "Well, there's four different houses for the students at Hogwarts. Ye'll get sorted intae one of the four when ye start, but I can't say much more than that. You'll get told at the start of the term."
Malcolm just nodded. Hagrid seemed like a nice enough bloke, but he appeared to have a bit of a loose mouth as well. It was probably just as well that he hadn't mentioned any of the arrangements Dumbledore had made.
Malcolm learned a lot that day as he followed Professor Hagrid on his rounds. The "Forbidden Forest" was something like the magical equivalent of a nature preserve. According to Hagrid, subtle wards had been set up ages ago, that subdivided the Forest into little sub-areas. The wards were not actual barriers, but they encourage the creatures within not to cross the boundaries. This let Hagrid and his predecessors keep antagonistic creatures separated. For example, Dire Wolves and Unicorns did not get along well at all, and allowing either group easy access to the other was begging for trouble. The wards also helped ensure that dangerous creatures didn't leave the Forest, either.
"O' course, the wards don't so well, th' smarter ye are," Hargid concluded.
"Smarter?"
"Well, fer example, there's a herd of centaurs in there. They're just as smart as wizards… smarter, by the way they tell it. They know about th' wards, they just don't pay them any mind. Truth be told, I think they appreciate how it keeps some of the things they don't like tied down. The wards also don't keep students out of the Forest, and no matter what we tell them, a couple always wander in over th' course of a year."
"Er, do they make it back out again?" Malcolm asked.
"Well, usually," Hagrid replied evasively.
"Bloody hell," Malcolm muttered under his breath. What have I gotten myself into? he asked himself.
"'ere now, no need tae worry," Hagrid said bracingly. "All of the disappearances… er, well, most of them were at night."
Malcolm just looked at the gigantic man.
"Don' worry, I'm with ya. I think summaz them that went missing just ran off… getting away from their parents or going to join You-Know-Who…" Hagrid shut his mouth quickly, his teeth clacking together. "Doesn't matter," he said after a moment, "I'm here wit' ye, and I'll show ye how tae get around and not get hurt or nothing."
Malcolm was not entirely reassured, but followed Hagrid into the woods.
A/N Alrigh', alrigh' - trying to write Hagrid is fun but challenging. As the story rolls along and picks up momentum, I'm hoping to include longer chapters.
Please send me a review and let me know what you think. If Hagrid's dialogue is too hard to read, I can tone it down (reading it phonetically should help).