A/N: It has occurred to me that I should apologize for both past and future offenses regarding various British dialects. I have done as much research as possible, but nothing I write is meant to make fun of or offend anyone. Please pardon me if I have inadvertently done so.


"Harry! Harry! Wait up there!" Hagrid lumbered towards them at an angle to their path back to the castle after their morning run.

"Go on, guys," he said. "It's too chilly for you to stand out here waiting around." The group moved into the shelter of the door but remained within visual range. "Yes, sir, Mr. Hagrid?" he asked politely.

"Eh, I ain't a 'sir' and there's no 'Mister' 'bout it, I'm jest Hagrid. Ah," he grinned, "lookit yeh. C'mere." Before Harry knew it, he was engulfed in a giant hug.

"Uh," he beat a tattoo on the man's arm, "gotta breathe here!"

"Sorry 'bout that." Hagrid pulled out a handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth and wiped his eyes before blowing his nose. Harry ducked out of the way of the gale force wind from that. "Haven't seen yeh since I flew yeh to yer aunt an' uncle's the night after James an' Lily were killed. Sad thing, that." He shook his head. "Course, I thought I'd see yeh at the train station." He scratched his beard and tossed aside a plum pit he found. "Don't know how I missed yeh. And since then I've been busy with…" he looked around furtively, "special Hogwarts stuff."

"Erm, right then. You had something to say to me?" Having just heard the man's confession of his part in leaving him with the Dursleys, he braced himself for another emotional apology. Watching his head of house weeping over tea and shortbread had been the most uncomfortable hour he had spent since leaving Privet Drive.

"Nah, jest wanted to see how that little tyke'd grown. But as I got yeh here," the man leaned down, "what's with this 'lordship' I hear about? I know yeh didn' get nothin' so fine from those muggle relatives. Is it somethin' Dumbledore thought up to keep You-Know-Who kilter-annie?"

Harry decided to act deliberately obtuse. "The headmaster had nothing to do with it, and I don't know who."

"Yeh don'?" When the boy nodded, his brows pulled together. "I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it, but– All right," he took a deep breath, "it's Voldemort."

"Are you daft? Voldemort's dead."

"Don' say his name!" His black eyes rounded. "It ain't safe. And he ain't dead, not according to Dumbledore."

"Then Dumbledore has shite for brains."

Offended, Hagrid puffed out even wider. "He's a great man, Albus Dumbledore."

"Yeah, right." Harry stepped back and rolled his eyes. "Gotta go. Sorry to cut this reunion short." After turning he whispered, "Not."

Hermione was the first to speak to him. "What did he say to you?"

"Bunch of crap about my parents' deaths." He growled, "Friggin' Dumbledore–I know, Hermione, 'language'–sure has pulled the wool over his eyes."

"That would take a ginormous sheep," Draco commented in a deadpan voice.

"Har, har. That might be meat we've seen him carting around, as I could smell blood. I still do." He raised his arm to sniff it and promptly gagged. "He must've had that manky bag in his hand when he hugged me."

"Yeah, we didn't know if we should try to rescue you when that happened. Of course," Neville shrugged, "we weren't sure how we'd overpower him."

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Well, besides stinking, which you already did before Hagrid arrived."

"You aren't exactly a rose either, your ladyship," Harry shot back.

When sparks flew from her eyes and she stomped away, Draco and Neville let out an 'Ooh!' in stereo.

"Anyway, Drake," Harry shook his head, "back to my original thought. You might be onto something about him wanting his meat specially cooked. It's the only reason I can think of for him to bring it to the castle every morning."

"I don't know," the blond drawled, "since he appears half savage, I'd think he'd eat it tartare."

Neville disagreed, pointing out, "He shouldn't do that with pork, and that bag is about the size to fit an entire boar."

"Now, as for me," Harry reminisced as they let the heavy door close behind them, "I prefer my pig roasted in the ground. What island were we on when we had that?"


Hermione's long-delayed appointment to be deskmate with Ronald Weasley arrived, and she was enjoying it about as much as she had expected, especially since it was Halloween. After dodging a windmilling arm, she decided it was time to show her helpful side.

"Your pronunciation is incorrect," she informed him. "'Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa'; be sure to make the 'gar' nice and long."

Face flushed to match the colour of his hair, he snapped, "Since you're so clever, try it yourself and prove it."

Sighing, she flicked her arm and performed the spell correctly; after all, she had been practicing the movements and words for over two years. This time, of course, with her true wand, the feather rose off the desk and hovered well above the students' heads.

Professor Flitwick had been ecstatic, yet even with that affirmation of her bona fides, Ron merely glared and continued with his own wayward gestures and inferior elocution. He ignored all of her attempts to placate his wounded feelings and by the end of the class, he loudly proclaimed to everyone within three metres, "Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, my arse! That bloody swot is an absolute nightmare."

Seamus turned to Harry to see if he was going to defend one whom he knew was a friend, only to see his fellow brave Gryffindor begin to back off. "You okay with him saying that, Harry?" he asked, confused.

"Don't talk, just get out of the line of fire," he hissed, dragging him along.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

The boy flinched, wondering who had blabbed his middle name. "Yeah, Granger," he sneered.

"You have the manners of an ape, the voice of a hyena, and the brains of a troll. If anyone is a nightmare, it is you!"

"Wut?" he managed.

"How do you expect to graduate Hogwarts if you don't put forth any effort to learn? The incantation and movement were illustrated on the board and demonstrated multiple times for the benefit of all of us. Our professors don't have the time to nursemaid you through these most basic of spells, and that is why I tried to help you."

"Look," he snarled, "I didn't ask for your help, so you can bloody well keep it."

"I certainly shall in the future." She turned to Harry. "If anything, you understated this person's asininity." Sniffing, she left the classroom with her head held high but not before firing one last shot. "What. An. Idiot."

At dinner that night, Draco leaned backwards and tapped her on the shoulder. "I heard you tried to tame a wild Weasley in Charms today."

"I've decided he's not worth the effort." Her eyes roved to the Gryffindor table. "I am sorry for one thing; it appears Harry is in for a rough night of it." The redhead was holding forth, food spewing every which direction with his tirade.

"You don't think he'll turn Gryffindor against you and bollix it all up, do you?"

Hermione snorted. "He doesn't have the power. Both Lavender and Parvati found me in the restroom‒I had a few stress tears‒and told me that they agreed with every word I said and then some. Apparently he is notorious for both breaking wind and belching in the common room."

"Wow. Add that to Harry's reports of his snores and he has hit the unholy trifecta."

"Indeed. Oh, and they also said they can hardly wait until it's their turn to see the 'Royal Room', as they call it."

Draco chortled. "All hail Princess Hermione!"


"Hermione!" That person turned around so see Susan and Hannah scurry to catch up to her.

"Hello," she greeted them. "What's the rush?" she asked when they hung onto each other's shoulders and gasped for air.

Once Susan caught her breath, she began the tale." We know you four run in the morning–"

"And you wouldn't be struggling to breathe if you joined us. Sorry!" She grinned. "The occupational hazard of being a know-it-all."

"Actually," Hannah smiled shyly, "we'd rather enjoy the view from a warmer distance."

When the Ravenclaw's eyebrow rose, Susan took up the narrative. "We found a window nook on the fourth floor that overlooks the lake."

"Ah," Hermione nodded in understanding, "which one of them do you fancy, then?"

Both girls blushed. "Is it that obvious?" Hannah asked, clearly mortified.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reassured her. "You girls are no different than those in Ravenclaw. Even the older ones! Honestly, we're here for education, not to get frisky."

"Frisky?" Susan asked before returning to the point of the conversation. "Anyway, yesterday morning we were distracted by footsteps."

"Loud footsteps," put in Hannah. "Hagrid was coming up the stairs."

"So?"

"Hagrid is the game keeper, Hermione. Why should he have any business on levels above the Great Hall?"

"Plus, he went to the third floor! The forbidden corridor. You remember, 'painful death'."

"And we thought, since you and the boys are the de facto leaders among the students, that you ought to know."

"Your statement, while flattering, is not actually the truth. But," she held up a hand to stall the protests that she could see the pair was planning to make, "I am interested. How long was he there, or did you leave before he did?"

"We didn't stick around," Susan admitted. "But we heard his footsteps stop, and then suddenly there was this loud barking."

"As if it was a whole pack of wild dogs."

"Then the sound stopped as quickly as it began. We left right after that."

"Hagrid always seems so nice, even if a little uncouth." Hannah's eyes were worried. "I can't believe that he'd be part of something that could harm students."

"We really don't know any of the staff well, do we? Oh, sorry," Hermione apologized, "I don't always remember that other people have lived in the wizarding world all their lives."

"It doesn't matter. Besides, the professors, except for Dumbledore, pretty much stay here most of the year and don't socialize. So it's not all that different for us."

"Well, I know for a fact that Hagrid is the headmaster's man through and through, so he wouldn't be up to anything that he wouldn't approve of."

Susan nodded. "That's true. Thanks for reassuring us, Hermioine."