Wood creaked as the trio settled in their seats. Or rather, their shared seat. A wide wooden bench was offered while the groundskeeper settled down on a wider rocking chair, plenty of blankets upon it with more than a dozen pillows scattered over in order to provide comfort while sleeping. Given the relatively small cottage, it was obvious that Hagrid made use of the chair as a bed in order to free up some space near the back for storage no doubt.
The first thing that Harry noticed about the half-giants state of inebriation was the foul smell of his breath. Years spent living with the Dursleys had accustomed Harry to alcohol. Uncle Vernon with his scotch, Aunt Petunia with her port before every dinner. Dudley even, when his parent's weren't looking, sneaking into the pantry and sipping from the high bottle of gin. When a contract went well, or even when it didn't go well, Vernon Dursley was sure to be found holding a glass half-full or even completely full of the amber alcoholic beverage. His temper would mellow but would inevitably worsen as the evening drew on. Harry had learned the hard way that he would be best kept safe hiding in the small cupboard beneath the stairs. The drunken ramblings caused bad memories to surface and for the moment he had nothing to say the drunkard.
Hermione had no such experiences with alcohol. Her mother and father both abhorred the use of such substances. Being renowned doctors, they had an image to maintain and alcohol showed its wicked claws in the appearance of the consumers. That wasn't to say that they didn't have their own vices. Hermione was young but not stupid. She knew that the small bags of white powder weren't salt, or sugar, or baking powder for that matter. Her parents were clever, but the small witch was cleverer still. More than once she had seen her father rapidly looking at the phone he was assigned every time he was on call. Sometimes it didn't ring. Sometimes it did and her father always came back from the hospital wound up like a spring, so taught she feared he might snap into a thousand shards. Her mother was no better. Less reckless, maybe, but still no better than her father.
As for Ron, the poor youth had no knowledge of such muggle devices and concoctions. Doubtless he would have been shocked or even repulsed at the idea had he learned of their existence. Alas, Ronald Weasley had his own issues to think of. Firewhiskey was a bottle kept in his families storage for special occasions such as graduations, academic awards, promotions at work. Butterbeer was a recipe nigh memorized by all their family members, a favorite during holidays or simply during a particularly hot summer day. Their relative poverty kept the Weasleys at bay from the more intense drinks and substances that plagued some of the societal echelons of wizarding society. Habit forming substances. Substances such as elf's blood wine, rumored to keep whomever drank it youthful and vigorous. Indirectly causing they that imbibed such a tincture to lose the love for other drink and food until all that remained in their desires was the drinking of such wine. They that knew of such fates called the wizards and witches that gave in to temptation by a slur. Vampires. Many more such substances existed, each unknown to the young wizard but it was enough to send chills down his spine while he breathed in the foul air of drunkenness.
As the passing seconds turned into long minutes drowning in silence, Hagrid continued to drink from the tankard of cobbled metal from which sloshed a liquid of undoubtedly flammable nature.
"Ser… What'er ye wants?" Burped Hagrid, eyes half-lidded already with the threat and promise of deep sleep.
"Are there any big animals in the castle?" Asked Hermione all of a sudden, eyes on the floor as she stifled a gag from the stench that wafted from his mouth. Despite being a fair distance, it was clear that whatever he was drinking was more meant to cauterize some personal wound rather than enjoyed for its flavor.
"'s me da'…" The drunken stupor of the halfgiant made it difficult to understand the words as anything more than a single utterance. For her part, Hermione understood better than her two friends. "Your dad?" She asked gently, as if too loud a voice might spook the man and set him off into a drunken ramble.
Sniffling, Hagrid drank some more before coughing as the alcohol burned down his throat. Standing, he shakily walked along to grab a large bottle and took it with him to set onto the table. No doubt more of the rancid liquid. Out it poured, a few glugs alerting that the contents were not purely liquid and that there was a fair share of clumps within the beverage.
"Me da'…" He sniffed once again before grunting. "'E uh… 'E died tode'..." The accent was hard to descipher already, not aided in the slightest by the creaking of the trees outside in the Forbidden Forest, a fact that greatly sobered up the already sober children. What sorts of monsters lurked within? What madness lay behind the deep and dark cover of the outer layer of trees? Since Hagrid was silent now, the trio turned to look out the miniature window that stared out directly towards the object of their current obsession.
What was that? Movement? Surely their imagination… No one would be insane enough to go out of the castle in the dead of night. Well, the three of them being exempt from that consideration.
A snore startled them all, half giant and the trio turning to the corner where a blanket could be seen stirring slightly. With a thump, Hagrid placed his flagon on the table and as unsteadily as he could, made his way to the spot. "Don' wore, chilluns… 'S jus' de dahg…" Despite his assurances of calm, they were none too pleased to see the large canine stand upon all fours and lazily lope closer to them. A great dane, no doubt, though it was bigger than any of its kind that the three had seen before.
Which was not saying much. Harry had rarely been allowed outside the house except for school and the unavoidable times where the Dursleys considered his company far better than the thought of leaving him alone in their house during vacation. Hermione had seen many dogs during the trips her family took abroad, all over Europe and a few times to America. Dogs of all kinds and yet if her excellent memory served her correctly, the dog present was the biggest her eyes had ever gazed upon.
It was Ronald that remained slightly unfazed by the large animal, gently holding out a hand for it to sniff before feeling confident enough to place the palm on top of its head. The fur was warm, if somewhat damp and at the removing of his hand he could see some patches of short hairs stuck to his skin. Shedding, no doubt.
"Dumbledore 's kind enuff to le' me kee' 'im." Said the groundskeeper, his mind beginning to realize that perhaps drinking that particular brew with children present was not the best strategy, all things considered. "'Es a big 'un! Foun' 'im when 'e was jus' a pup…" Hagrid cupped his hands as small as he could manage to give a visual aid as to the size in question. Harry found it amazing that something so apparently small could have grown into something so big and powerful in appearance. "Not a regular dog, though… 'S a hybrid. Magic, sor' uh…" He focused a tad, trying to remember what the headmaster had said when examining the puppy that Hagrid had brought to him. "Wolf an' a Mongolian uh sheep 'digo. Makes 'im real smart and uh, clever…"
As time passed in more silence, and Hagrid was seen avoiding the drink for as long as was possible, the trio felt that it was eventually time to ask the question again, this time knowing that their large friend was capable of answering.
"Hagrid… Are there any large animals in the castle?" The fire cracked and popped slightly louder now as if the topic in question was an uncomfortable one. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds of Hogwarts, was uncomfortable and it was a sight neither of the three had expected to see.
"Why do ya ask?" He replied softly, his voice almost muffled by the thick beard that covered his face. He had his eyes anywhere but the trio, as if not seeing them could make the problem and situation vanish. He then gave a gasp and looked to the fire, standing and busily pulling some large round object from a cauldron that had been clearly hanging over the fire for a long while, judging by how dark the exterior of it was. Almost dropping it, Hagrid returned to the table and placed the egg on its surface, Harry, Hermione and Ron all staring wide eyed at what had to be the largest egg they had ever laid eyes on.
"Hagrid… What is that?" Asked Hermione as the three tried to sink deeper into the wooden bench. The evening was getting more and more interesting and that did not necessarily mean good things were in store. A hybrid magic dog, a half giant as their host and now this odd cracking egg before them.
"I got it from this lovely fellow in the pub a few weeks ago. Wouldn't show his face, seemed kind of nervous… I told him I could take it if he played me at cards. Poor fellow lost quite badly but he seemed happy to get rid of it. I couldn't imagine wanting to part with such a creature… I wonder what it looks like…" The serious danger to their person aside, the innate curiosity of the three made it impossible not to want to get closer to the egg. A crack suddenly bisected the shell, what seemed to be a chitinous membrane ripping as a soft claw poked out and slashed it apart.
All concerns for discovery were laid aside, all answers to their questions put on hold for before them was a new life. A dragon of sorts, or rather a wyvern given that it had two wings and two legs with no forelegs to support it. The scales, soft given it's most recent shelling, were a dull green with splotches of brown. The membrane of the wings appeared somewhat moist but as they stretched out the thin film of skin began to dry. A flap, taking the little beast up in the air before it stumbled in its rhythm and landed with a dull thump on the wooden top.
They were abreast with the table, hands grabbing at the edge as they tried to look closer at the marvellous sight. "Hagrid, that's a dragon…" Whispered Harry who was in awe at the fact that he could indeed lay eyes on such a mythical being. Ron shook his head and breathed in, in love with the smell of dry burning and a freshly born drake. "That's a wyvern… My brother cares for them in a preserve over in Romania…"
Hagrid turned to the trio and arched an eyebrow. With the excitement, and how rapidly his heart was beating, the alcohol was almost completely burned away and it gave him the foresight to motion the group back from the table. "They breathe fire, fellers. Dun' wanna haver yer faces all charred up on this happy moment." Once more the hut grew quiet as the only sounds were that of the wobbling egg shells and the shrill cries of the wyvern learning to walk, breathe and seeing the very large world it had been brought into.
"Does it have a name?" Asked Hermione all of a sudden, in truth after convincing herself to speak up given her boundless curiosity. She did so loathe not knowing.
"Well I… Idonnow…" He seemed at a loss. What sort of name should a dragon have? "I was thinking Normand."
Harry stared in silent shock at the concept. "Normand? A dragon named Normand?" He found the idea quite funny. Hagrid considered it and then shrugged. He would never claim to have the most creative mind when it came to naming magical creatures. "What would you call it, then?"
That shut Harry up, since he had no idea himself. What to call the creature indeed… "Something magical?" He replied, though that was as far as he could go with his thoughts. That was a dragon. A real dragon. It was all that he could do not to jump up and approach the creature once again. It fascinated him. In truth, the dragon could have been a unicorn and it would have still captivated the young wizard's mind.
"Well it's green and brown… Seems like it belongs in the woods. Maybe something tree related?" Suggested Hermione, her mind clever and racing to come up with the answer first. Not that there was an answer at all, but she needed to know she had been as smart as she could be given the circumstance. "Willow is a good name."
Hagrid, however, shook his head. "'Es not a Willow… Er, maybe… 'Ard to tell, with dragons… Can' really see if they's a lad or a lass. So Willow if a lass, an' er… Norbert, if a lad!" He grinned, satisfied with himself and neither of the three was willing or even wanting to argue. Both were good names. Not great, but certainly good.
Perhaps it was the focus they had on Willow/Norbert. Perhaps it was the fact that they had been somewhat loud once the egg had cracked.
Perhaps it was the fact that Draco has suspected the trio of un-Slytherin behaviour. Students sneaking around the castle after dark would get points deducted from their house. Despite being first years, they had to have loyalty to their house. They were Slytherins. Slytherins had to look out for Slytherins, because no one else would.
So when Hagrid looked up and saw a pale, blonde face staring into his home, he wondered who it could be.
When the trio looked in the direction and saw the features of Draco Malfoy rapidly vanish, they knew they were in trouble. Hagrid looked at the three and realized that they were not supposed to be out so late. Whomever that had been, most likely a prefect, would return with whatever professor they could find and there would be hell to pay. "'Ho was that?" Wondered the halfgiant again. This time, he got an answer.
"Trouble."
Professor McGonagall sat at her desk in the space that served as her classroom. A clock ticked softly by as Filch, Dracon Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley stood before her; each, save for the custodian, looking at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, or literally anywhere that was not the professor.
The faint scratching of pen on paper ceased once she was done writing the letter before her, dipping it into the ink well and lacing her fingers together. Not a word had been said since Filch had escorted the students from Hagrid's hut, a very pleased with himself Draco Malfoy subjected to the stern glare of disapproval wielded by the aged witch.
"I find myself at a lack of words to express how disappointed I am in you… Miss Granger, you are a gifted student. Mister Weasley, your family surely raised you better than this. Mister Potter, I do not need to express how distraught I am to see that someone as famed and lauded as yourself can treat the rules with such disdain." Despite not being kin or blood to them, each felt the pang of shame and remorse. As well as a healthy dose of animosity to the smirking Malfoy. Of all the times to get caught, this one was especially bothersome. They had not even learned what Hagrid knew about the terrible three headed dog creature that Ron had claimed to see.
"And you, Mister Malfoy… Your father will be very displeased to hear about your similar endeavours." Harry wished to have been in possession of a camera of some sort in order to snap a good picture of the transition from 'smug' to 'distraught.'
"Professor, I merely looked out for my house as a whole. Surely I should be rewarded rather than punished." Without needing to look, Hermione knew that Draco was wearing that smarmy grin that had convinced even her to trust him as a friend. If she had known how shallow the boy could be she would have not even shaken his hand… The memory refreshed now brought with it the soft laughs of her pure-blooded peers. Whatever sympathy she could have had vanished after that.
"Oh I understand that, Mister Malfoy, however in order to do such a laudable act you had to break the very rules that they are to be punished for. Thusly, you are also going to be punished as them. Mister Filch?" The professor stood and began to approach them all. The custodian stood up as straight as he could, his cat ever present beside him with her deep, red, eyes.
"Aye, professah…?" He seemed intimidated to a lesser degree than the students, yet intimidated he was, nonetheless. The woman could turn living beings into inanimate glass vases. Who knew what spells and enchantments she had in her knowledge?
"Since the students are interested in learning about the castle once it is night… The four will accompany you and Mister Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest tomorrow and next week in its entirety." Silence reigned in the room as each party tried to understand why they were being sent into such a dangerous situation. What the logic was. What the educational reasoning could be. A lone howl managed to reach them through the somewhat open window of the professor's wall. "Well?" Clearly, her tone let room for no discussion or arguments.
"That's insane!" Of course, cried out the blonde Slytherin. "You cannot send us there… There's werewolves!"
Filch chuckled, McGonagall letting a curt smile adorn her lips though her eyes shone with little friendliness. It was late at night, she wished to sleep before it was time to prepare for the next days lessons.
"Werewolves are the least of your worries in those woods…" Mused the custodian, giving a nod and turning around to exit the room. "With me, younglings… I'll escort ye to yer rooms…" He cried over his shoulder, the sound echoing around the stone walls. "Last thing ye want is to get caught out again and get double punishment."
The four looked at each other and hurried out, soft pitter patter of shoes striking the worn stone floors receding away into nothing. With a sigh, Professor McGonagall placed a hand on the desk and shook her head. James and Lilly had not died for their son to be a rulebreaker… Odd, though. He had never known his parents and yet Harry was the spitting image of his father. With his mothers eyes, of course. A wave of sadness washed over her and the cold exterior of the professor cracked with a gentle tear rolling down an aged and wrinkled cheek.
"She can't do that!" Continued to protest Draco Malfoy as the four of them plus Filch hastily walked towards the Slytherin common room. The locations of the door caused the young Malfoy's voice to echo loudly. "My father will hear about this!"
"Yer father heard it, boy. Lucky you's I'm not yer Da' or it'd be the thumb screws from the Astronomy tower. Go on now, the lotto ya." The custodian was clearly not enthused with the company he was keeping. The dank cavernous halls of the Slytherin entryway were cold and stabbed daggers of ice into Filch's weathered bones.
The door swung open, Professor Snape standing before them and seemingly unfazed by the lateness of the hour. He had received a short message from McGonagall, rousing him from his sleep in order to provide a healthy welcome to the four disappointing members of his house. "So good of you four to join us… Thank you, Mister Filch… You may… Go."
Not a word was said, for Filch was already well on his way to leave them to their impending doom. "I must admit, I expected behaviour like this from our dear Mister Potter and perhaps you as well, Mister Weasley. Mister Malfoy, rest assured your father will hear about your wanton flaunting of the rules. Fifty points are to be taken from Slytherin."
The protests were silenced with a wave of his hand. "For each of you. Miss Granger, you are a clever young woman that should know better than to meander around the castle and its exteriors at night. Thirty points are to be deducted on your behalf, making you the least costly student this evening. To your bed and I expect an essay on the value of abiding by the laws and rules of our forefathers by tomorrow evening. One roll of parchment, three thousand words, both sides if need be. You are dismissed."
Hermione scampered off as quickly as she could, desperate to get to writing and wishing to clear the tarnished image her professor had of her now. Soon Draco, Harry and Ron stood alone before the impassive glower of the potions master. No doubt he had punishment for them as well… Truly bothersome, getting caught. Draco could feel there was no sympathy for him in the company he was keeping at that moment.
"Mister Weasley, your family is a proud and ancient line of witches and wizards. They already must deal with the embarrassment that is your twin brothers constantly pulling their pranks and jokes on their fellow students. Hogwards is a centre of learning and community, ironic as that might be, but with the focus on our house it will not do to have any additional misbehaviours undermining our reputation. Many dark wizards and witches have come from our house, more than those that have come from the other houses, but the eye of scrutiny is on us. Your punishment will be to volunteer with Madame Sprout in cleaning the green houses during the evenings. The duration will be up to her to decide though I am trusting that three weeks doing such work shall instil in you a healthy respect for the rules and laws in place. Perhaps a close encounter with the Devil's Wit roots shall straighten you out. Dismissed."
Ron gave a nod, staring at the floor while turning to make his way into the boy's rooms, dreading the upcoming weeks that would come far sooner than he would like, no doubt.
"Mister Malfoy, I reserve the punishment dealing to your father. Surely Lucius shall have a clever way of reminding you to value the art of not being seen when defending the honour of your house. Dismissed."
Oddly enough, Harry did not feel like Draco had been let off easy with the apparent lack of punishment from the professor. Then it was he and Snape, alone.
"Mister Potter…" Like vitriol, the name seemed to burn the professor's mouth as he uttered it. Distasteful, poisonous even, yet the semblance of impartiality needed to be maintained.
"I don't suppose you will expect me to consider your status as a celebrity into consideration for your chastisement." Damn him, he had his mothers eyes. "Rest assured I am not so easily swayed by paltry things as fame and fortune. Your fellow delinquents," a harsh word but adequate enough for the moment, "have been dealt justly and appropriately by my colleagues and myself. However, I believe in using punishment as a method of education. Miss Granger is brilliant witch, her wit needs to be honed into a fine edge. Writing and thinking will serve her well. Mister Weasley has potential, great potential… I've seen his keen eye for botanical and subjects of nature magic. The time spent amidst the plants of the greenhouses will be perfect to get him acquainted with them. Malfoy… Is not my concern and you, Mister Potter… You need to learn to respect your elders."
Harry blinked, confused as to what could possibly have brought such a decision to bear. "Sir?"
"The rules you and your cohorts broke were dictated by Professor Dumbledore earlier this year. By breaking them and disrespecting them, you disrespected the authority of the Headmaster. Do you see where the reasoning lies?"
As much as Harry wished to say otherwise, it did make sense. "How will I show my remorse?" It was genuine enough, though the boy felt more cheated than anything else. No doubt a punishment assigned to the Headmaster would be infinitely harder to complete than the ones his companions had received.
"The headmaster will expect you in his chambers tomorrow. I suggest you make time to accommodate his wishes with all the extra chores you are going to be dealing with. If I understand it right, you four are to take a hike through the Forbidden Forest tomorrow evening until next week. I would suggest you wear a particularly thick cloak, Mister Potter. The woods are cold and chilly, and there are all sorts of undesirable creatures lurking in the protective darkness… Dismissed."
As if in a trance, the young Potter followed in the steps of his fellow students, long gone already. He barely recalled changing into his night-clothes and the next day he would not recall when he had fallen asleep. Merely the dreams of forests in the night, beasts and monsters lurking within the darkness.
He could feel the chill of the air, the low hanging fog covering the ground and making it difficult to traverse. Off in the distance he could see some lights, golden and orange, lanterns no doubt. His companions were near, then. Harry took a step forward, tripping over a branch and crashing down with force, the fog dispersed to reveal an intricate and very complex looking weaving of roots. His vision was blurry, a hand up to his face and failing to feel the glasses he wore. Frantically pawing at the ground, lifting up dirt and feeling the anxious clench of fear in his throat before silence suddenly descended around him as a literal blanket.
It was cold, as well. Viciously cold. So cold that Harry felt like the tips of his hairs began to coat in hoarfrost. A shape started to descend before him, bringing with it a chill so intense it made his heart constrict and his lungs feel as if they were filling with ice water. It was hard to breathe. To think…
The floating being settled in the center of the patch of roots, the only visible thing about it being the rounded cranium beneath its dirtied sheet. A ghost, in a more classical sense of the word. Not the jolly spectre of the Bloody Baron, who was jolly when in the Slytherin common room and vicious everywhere else. Somewhere in the corner of Harry's mind, he wondered if this ghost had shackles on its wrists.
It approached, as silent as the grave yet carrying with it the deafening roar of silence. Harry heard his heart beating in his ears, afraid yet feeling a different sort of fear this time.
Many times he had cowered within his spot beneath the stairs when Uncle Vernon drunkenly complained about that 'lousy good for nothing parasite', keeping as silent as possible in order to redirect the wrath of his uncle elsewhere. More often than not it worked. Though the times it did not work were painful memories indeed.
Before he could see the apparition any clearer, Harry woke with a start. It was day out, the common room was bustling with the fellow students. Ron, poor soul, was already dressed and staring with a gaunt expression at Harry. "Morning…" Greeted the redheaded wizard, clearly having slept little imagining the horrible and painful things that would happen to them in their visit to the Forbidden Forest, as well as Ronald's own assignment with Professor Sprout.
Wordlessly, Harry dressed and followed the gathering Slytherins, Hermione joining them silently as they followed the crowd. It was obvious that they had slept little, if at all. Hermione clutching a roll of parchment in her hand with what was undoubtedly her essay for Professor Snape written within it. How she had managed to do so was beyond Ron who was glad himself at not needing to write a lengthy essay at all. Reading was hard enough, considering the tomes he had taken from the forbidden section.
Eventually, they reached the great hall and took their seats at the table to eat. Ron served himself generously, wolfing down the food as fast as he could serve himself. The bustle and hustle of the hall died down as Professor Dumbledore stood, making his way to the stand where an assortment of candles floated unlit. "May I have your attention, please?" Polite, full of decorum, yet there was power in his very voice.
"Professor Quirrel has fallen rather ill, recently and until he is recuperated we have elected to bring a substitute for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Please welcome Nathaniel Corvus." The professor in question stood, a younger looking man with a head of brown hair tied up in a simple pony tail. He gave a wave and sat, the focus once again on Dumbledore. "For those interested, Miss Duchess is still in San Mungo, with a team of doctors watching over her." A few comments here and there, but the bullyish Slytherin was not exactly missed so much as recalled.
Harry looked at Professor Corvus, curious as to what this man was going to do in the school.
First half. Second coming soon. Thank you all for your patience.
