Chapter 12

Monday morning Allen received a note under his door, asking him to go to Dumbledore's office. He'd been expecting the summons, the thought of it weighing on his mind as he considered what to do now that his secret was out. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. The chilling memory of a taunting voice made sure of that.

It had taken two minutes to pack all his earthly possessions, but he left the bag in his room before going up to the office. He could pick it up on the way out.

He walked the corridors alone, Timcanpy flying a little ways in front of him. Students rushing to classes slinked nervously out of his way, eyes resting on him and his arm before shuffling off, turning back to stare until he was out of sight. He had expected something like this, but it still hurt. He'd even avoided going to breakfast. Soon, though, he wouldn't have to deal with Hogwarts and its staring students anymore. He walked a little faster.

Finally he reached Dumbledore's office, knocked on the door, and heard the familiar voice call, "Come in."

When Allen walked inside, he stopped and stared up at the massive man standing in the office beside Dumbledore, towering over the both of them. He was at least ten feet tall, with a wiry black beard that covered most of his face, save his eyes, and his body as wide as a carriage. Allen stared up at him before looking over to Dumbledore. Was this the person who threw trouble-makers out of the school—by the look of it, literally?

"Mr. Walker, this is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts, and professor of Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, I believe you are familiar with Mr. Walker?" Good manners ingrained, Allen held out a hand for Hagrid to shake. Hagrid reached down and shook his whole arm.

"Aye, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said, letting Allen's hand go. Allen clutched at his shoulder real quick to make sure his arm was still connected as Hagrid chuckled. "Saw 'im at the game Saturday."

Allen looked back at Dumbledore, mounting confusion on his face. "Um, sir, what's going on?"

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses, a bit of a smile in his eyes, and replied, "Did you want to leave us so soon, Mr. Walker?"

"I didn't think I had a choice," Allen admitted. "I'm already packed."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's too bad. But may I ask you something first?"

"Um," Allen glanced back at Hagrid and then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"The damage to the Ravenclaw stands at the Quidditch pitch will take some time to be repaired, and, seeing how you are the one who damaged it, I feel it's only right for you to make reparations."

Allen nodded, glancing down in embarrassment. He hadn't considered the damage to the Hogwarts property, so caught up in his worries about Neah's return. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized how much he'd come to appreciate the Order paying for damages in the past. (It was a nice change of pace after travelling with his master.)

"I understand, but I don't have enough money to pay for repairs," Allen said remorsefully. He could feel the all-too familiar mental weight of debt hanging over his head.

Dumbledore glanced at Hagrid. "In that case, you will help Hagrid with repairing the building. As soon as this is done, you can be on your way if you still desire."

Still remorseful, Allen nodded. "I understand." Turning to Hagrid he smiled politely and said, "Just tell me what to do."

Hagrid clapped Allen on the shoulder, causing him to stumble forward, and then turned to Dumbledore. "Is tha' all, Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"Yes, thank you Hagrid, I think so."

Hagrid, hand still on Allen's back, pushed him forward toward the door and said, "Well, let's get started then, eh? Lots of work to do!" Allen followed Hagrid silently, still not quite believing what had happened in the office. He'd expected questions, expected to be thrown out for being a monster, expected…well, anything but what had happened.

"We'll be doing this without magic, see," Hagrid was saying, "but Dumbledore's told me that ya don't do magic anyways, so maybe it won't be so bad fer ya, eh?"

Allen just nodded, looking up at the man. Students passing them gave the two a wide berth, and Allen heard snatches of conversation—

"Being thrown out?"

"Looks like it."

"Good."

"Freak."

"Ignore 'em," Hagrid said softly, and Allen was surprised at the kindness in the giant man's voice. "People will always be afraid of what they don' understand."

Allen didn't feel like talking about it. "So, how are we doing this?"

Hagrid looked Allen over and said, "Ya got a better coat than tha'? We'll be outside all day."

"Er, yeah. In my room. It's this way..." Timcanpy flew ahead, leading the two to Allen's guestroom, where he dug out his jacket and a long undershirt that he changed into before buttoning his shirt up. Hagrid waited outside and then they were off.

The day was bright, the sky a dull blue, with only a few clouds to break it up. Wind whistled through the grounds, cutting through Allen's coat until he was shivering. The first thing he was going to do when he left Hogwarts was buy (or creatively procure, if necessary) some actual winter clothes.

They entered the Quidditch pitch where, Allen was surprised to see, stacks of wooden boards were already lying in piles, along with wood saws, measuring equipment, nails, hammers, screwdrivers, screws, paint, and a giant canvas. A pulley system was already set up, along with an extendable ladder that reached all the way to the top of the stands.

Good thing too, Allen thought as he looked at the damage. Most of the debris had been cleaned up, but the wooden supports would still need replacement and reinforcement. He didn't know much about construction, but if Allen had to guess, this was going to take a while.

"Alright-y then, firs' thing's firs', we've got ta see what needs replacin' and what needs repairin', and then measure the boards."

They set to work, Allen climbing up and down the ladder with measuring tape and a pencil, marking the wood and pad of paper, calling down to Hagrid the numbers. Hagrid was busy marking and sawing the wooden beams to size and sticking them onto the pulley, built to hold wood, hammers, nails, and a water bottle.

The sun rose as high and bright as it would and Allen was soon sweating, shedding his jacket and button up shirt and rolling up the sleeves of the undershirt. He tied his hair back with a cloth, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes.

While Allen hammered and measured and made cuts here and there, Hagrid directed him from below. Hagrid was mildly surprised when, at one point, the strings on one side of the pulley snapped, about to drop fifty pounds of wood on his head, and suddenly Allen was there, teetering dangerously from the ladder, holding the rope keeping the stack aloft with his bare hand. Hagrid had to run up to the top of the stands to reach over and pull the pile from Allen, and when it was done all he could say was, "How in the world did you hold tha'?"

He didn't say what else he saw—that Allen hadn't even been shaking as he balanced the weight of the boards as well as himself on one leg, the ladder teetering just in balance beneath him.

"It was nothing," Allen said. "I'm just glad you're alright. You have it fixed yet?"

"Yeah, just a mo'."

When lunchtime rolled around Allen descended and joined Hagrid for a thermos of soup and sandwiches, both men taking refuge in the pitch entrance to get away from the wind.

For a while they ate in silence, both of them too hungry for conversation. Allen glanced periodically at Hagrid; when curiosity won out he asked softly, "Aren't you scared of me?"

Hagrid glanced at him and laughed, but it wasn't a mean laugh. "Well, look at ya—yer a scrawny thing, aren't ya? Could snap ya like a twig, if I had the mind ta. Don' even know how, I've seen ya eat."

Allen opened his mouth, but Hagrid cut him off, kindness radiating from his eyes—and maybe understanding. "I know wha' ya meant. No, I'm not scared a ya. Way I see it, no one got hurt. No reason ta go jumpin' ta conclusions just cause yer a little different."

Allen couldn't hold Hagrid's eyes; he glanced at the ground, a lump in his throat growing. He held half of his sandwich in his hands, and blinked several times. Words failed him, but when at last he looked up at Hagrid and their eyes met, no words needed to be said.

He tried anyway, his voice croaking a soft, "Thank you."

They were silent again for another moment, but as Allen watched Hagrid take another helping of soup, he felt truly welcome. He took another bite of his sandwich, liking the warmth that had begun to blossom in his chest.

"So," Hagrid began. "What was tha' on Saturday anyway? Weren't like no magic I've ever seen."

Allen's mouth was full and he used that as an excuse not to answer. Instead he looked up at the stands and their progress. That morning had been mostly reinforcing the damaged supports; there was considerably more work left to do.

"What do you do as a groundskeeper?" Allen asked conversationally.

"Well," Hagrid began, going with the conversation change, "basically I keep the castle and grounds, doing repairs 'ere and there as needed, keepin' students away from the Forbidden Forest and everythin' inside there from coming up ta the castle…stuff like tha'. Changes from day to day. And then I teach, ya know, the Care of Magical Creatures class…" He straightened up proudly. "Dumbledore asked me to take over fer the last teacher three years ago. Best man fer the job, he told me, since I know just about everythin' there is to know about it."

"You like animals, then?"

"Sure! I could tell ya anything you'd want ta know—unicorns, manticores, kappas—I even found a rare species two years ago, for Harry's class ta take care of…Blast-ended Skrewts, they were, fascinatin' things…"

Allen had recognized "unicorn" and that was about it. "Wait, all those things are real?"

"Sure!" Hagrid laughed. "Real as you and me!"

Allen supposed that at this point nothing should've surprised him. "Do you use magic in your job often, then?"

Suddenly Hagrid looked really uncomfortable and Allen backtracked hurriedly. "I mean, it's alright if you don't…" He stopped because he wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

"I'm not allowed ta use magic, technically speakin'," Hagrid said, his excited voice diminishing. "Even if I was cleared of the charges..."

"Why not?"

But Hagrid didn't answer. "Snapped me wand, second year of school. Dumbledore, though, he was nice, let me stay on as groundskeeper. Very grateful to him, Dumbledore… kindest man I know." He glanced at Allen, the look on his face considering. "Gives all sorts of people chances they might never get." Allen chewed on his sandwich, and didn't meet Hagrid's eyes.

They heard something from the entrance and both looked up to see Hermione Granger standing inside the entrance way, clothed head to foot in a jacket, scarf and knit woolen hat, hands tucked deep inside her jacket pockets.

"Hermione!" Hagrid called out warmly. She gave him a strained smile in return. She looked awful. Her wild hair was bushier than normal and her eyes were red and glassy, like she'd been crying. Hagrid had come to his feet and bent down to give Hermione a hug, which she gladly reciprocated, before Hagrid led her over. She sat down tentatively next to Hagrid and nodded at Allen, her smile still strained.

"I 'aven't seen you since the start of term, Hermione. What's with tha'?"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid, I've just been so busy with classes…" she cleared her throat. "I'll have Harry and Ron…" but she stopped and then shook her head, clearing her throat again. "Anyway, I'm sorry."

Hagrid sighed. "I guess I understand. Not nice ta leave people hangin', though. Want some soup? 'S still warm."

"Thanks," she said, and took the thermos Hagrid handed her, sipping at it tentatively.

"So what are you doing down here?" Allen asked her.

"I felt like taking a walk," she replied stiffly, before glancing him over. "Aren't you cold?" she asked, gesturing to him. He wasn't wearing his jacket, still had his undershirt sleeves rolled up. He'd cooled down but he knew he'd be back to work in a bit anyway.

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head. "So?" he pressed.

Hermione sighed irritably. "I was given an excuse slip to skip on afternoon classes to come down here," she said stiffly, staring down at the thermos in her hands. "Dumbledore's orders," she added as an afterthought.

Allen huffed in annoyance. "So you're still my watchdog, huh?"

"Considering what happened Saturday I'm surprised you're still here at all," she replied sharply, and then winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did," Allen said softly, more tired than offended.

Silence fell between the three of them, Hermione and Allen not looking at each other, until at last Hagrid cleared his throat and came to his feet, cleaning up lunch. "Alright-y then, let's get back to it, Allen," Hagrid said. Hermione followed them and watched as Allen climbed back on the ladder.

"Is that…em, safe?" she asked Hagrid, who glanced up.

"Yeah, safe enough," he said glibly.

Hermione grimaced. "Are you sure a scaffold wouldn't be better, Hagrid?"

"Don' you worry, Hermione, he's fine. Boy can balance easy enough, and if he falls he's got that cloak thing ta catch him, don't he?"

"But Hagrid, he shouldn't have to depend on that," she argued. "It's a matter of safety. What if something falls?"

"Er, well…tha' already happened," Hagrid replied guiltily. Hermione stared incredulously at Hagrid and was about to start lecturing when Allen called down to them.

"Hagrid, pulley's coming down!"

"Right!" Hagrid called. He turned to Hermione and said, "Ya want to help out? No magic, though, if ya do—Dumbledore's orders." Hermione sighed and glanced up at Allen. He was hammering away, wiping sweat from his face. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ladder, muttering a spell.

"What'd ya do?" Hagrid asked curiously.

"I made it stable. It'll make me feel better," she said. Putting the wand away she rolled up her own sleeves and said, "Tell me where to go."

Hagrid directed her to measuring, cutting, and sewing the canvas that would replace the old one, and Hermione found that pushing the thick needle through the heavy material was harder than it looked. Soon enough, though, she got into the rhythm of it. Hagrid came over every few minutes to check her stitches before finally leaving her alone. Hagrid continued cutting wood for Allen and loading the pulley, directing him from the ground.

Hermione's hands moved over the fabric, but her mind was elsewhere, glancing up occasionally at the boy high in the air.

This past weekend would go down in her memory as one of the worst she'd spent in Hogwarts. She hadn't properly slept since Saturday, unable to face being in the same room with Lavender, instead holing away in an empty alcove of Gryffindor Tower.

She had spent all of Sunday in the library, reading furiously through old texts, going through the books she'd seen Allen pulling out over the week, using the wild events of the Quidditch game to direct her attention away from the ache in her chest and the itching of her eyes.

She hadn't realized her hands had stopped moving until she heard Hagrid say to her, "Hermione? What's the matter?" She looked up and blinked several times, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat.

"Nothing," she said, her voice betraying her as it croaked.

"Why don' you come over fer dinner and have a cuppa with me?" Hagrid said kindly.

She considered it, but then shook her head. "No, but thank you Hagrid. I appreciate it."

Hagrid nodded grimly, and then glanced up at the sky. "Night's fallin'. I'll walk ya back up ta the castle."

Hermione looked around. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the descending darkness. She set her materials down and helped Hagrid and Allen move everything to a sheltered area before the three of them started back up the hill.

"I'm starving," Allen moaned, and despite herself Hermione smiled.

"You certainly love to eat, don't you?"

He smiled broadly. "Oh, yeah."

She gave him an once-over. Allen's coat was slung over his arm, the button-up shirt back over him but open, the sleeves rolled up. He'd taken off the band that had kept his hair back, so it lay messy and limp. Her gaze lingered longer on his hand, wondering about the strange layering of skin at his knuckles and the slightly glowing green cross.

Throughout the week, Allen had been wearing gloves wherever he went, and it was first time she got a good look at the hand. She wondered if the black discoloration went all the way up his arm.

Instead of asking about that, she said, "Are you sure you aren't cold?"

"Not really," he said. "Worked up a sweat on that ladder." As they entered the main building Hermione saw students glance at them and hurry away, and she realized that perhaps Allen shouldn't go inside just yet.

"Allen, why don't we wait to eat? I have some things I wanted to ask you."

Hagrid stopped and said, "Want me ta wait fer ya?"

"No, Hagrid, go on ahead," Hermione replied hurriedly, "we'll be fine."

Allen and Hermione watched Hagrid leave, and Hermione could feel Allen staring at her. When she glanced back at him, though, he looked tired but expectant, as if he knew what she was about to ask him. What he said instead surprised her.

"Hermione, whether I eat in there now or in an hour, it's going to be the same. I'm hungry, and since you insist on being around anyway, why don't you join me and Luna?"

Hermione was so surprised that it wasn't until after Allen had turned away and headed toward the Great Hall doors that she stirred and rushed forward, grabbing his arm. "Allen, wait!"

He groaned and looked forlornly at the Hall. "It'll still be there," she snapped. Letting his arm go she gathered her courage. "I have just one question right now." Alright, that wasn't true, but she'd realized Allen had no patience left.

Allen glanced at her, taking in her serious expression, the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her eyes didn't leave his. "Go ahead," he said, wary.

"Did what happen on Saturday have anything to do with your curse? The one Dumbledore asked me to help you with?"

He let out a snort and laughed, relief making him smile and run his hand through his hair. "Haha, no, not at all. My arm's been the same all my life." He glanced at the hall. "Come on. Let's eat, okay?"

"Can I see it?"

Allen held up his left hand and gave a little wave. "There, you've seen it. Food now, questions later." He turned away, but not before Hermione caught a sarcastic grin on his face.

"Will you actually answer them?" Hermione muttered darkly.

"Depends on the question," Allen said dryly over his shoulder. "Hurry up or I'm taking your share."

"You wouldn't!" Allen turned back and grinned, and Hermione was so surprised that she stopped walking.

"Don't become a betting woman, Hermione; you'd lose." With that he walked inside, and, after a moment, Hermione followed.