Well, looks like I can forget my update schedule (RL is merciless)…but I will write when I can and update as fast as possible. Meanwhile, I have a request to my reviewers: As I said before I am not interested in the number of reviews I get but in the critic. It is not necessary to send me a "Well done!" in addition to putting me on a favorite or alert list…that you are interested at all is "Well done!" enough for me. But I am always getting confused when I suddenly have lots of alerts and favorite messages in my mail box, although I didn't update the ff recently. So if you know the reason for the sudden influx (like a recommendation which someone made somewhere) please drop me a line and tell me.
This chapter is dedicated to Medialuna, who is the best "plot beta" I can wish for.
A New World
The next morning, Harry was rested and in good spirits. In spite of the punishment, he had received a lavish meal the evening before. His new bed was even larger and more comfortable than the one in which he had slept for the last few weeks, and a hundred times better than the worn matters, in his old room on the Dursley property. The big windows not only let in a lot of light, they offered him an incredible view over the lands of Hogwarts.
Since nothing could be heard stirring from Dudley's room, Harry was able to use the bathroom in complete peace. With a feeling of security, this morning he allowed himself the longest shower of his life, because he had never before enjoyed the pleasure of massaging jets. With the selection of his clothing, he took his time, too. He wanted to continue to make a good impression, after all. Clean and dressed in his best robes, he stood indecisively for quite a while before his bedroom door. Was it really all right if he went out? Albus had said that he would breakfast with him, but he had not mentioned at what time.
Finally, he collected his courage and opened the door. The image, which presented itself to him now, was the most peculiar that he had ever seen. The Headmaster sat dressed in a flowered dressing gown at the table, on his feet a couple of slippers that looked like large bumblebees. His hair, including his beard, was twisted into long braids, which were decorated with multicolored ribbons.
"Ah, good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?"
The question was so normal, that it took Harry completely by surprise. He had expected something crazier.
"Yes… extremely well."
Hesitantly, Harry sat down at the table, and then it occurred to him that he had not been particularly polite, so he quickly said "Good morning!"
"Well, it looks as though Mr. Dursley still wants to sleep for a while. I think we shall begin without him."
Harry just agreed, since he knew only too well that Dudley never got out of bed before eleven, if someone didn't force him to. He waited until Albus had taken something, then he also dove in. For awhile they ate in silence, but Harry had the impression that Albus was only waiting for him to ask a question. This was a new experience for him, because Midas was the only one before who had ever allowed him to ask questions.
And for answers, he had received a bunch of lies. Perhaps it was about time to find some truths. Thanks to Snape, he knew about his notoriety as the 'boy-who-lived' and about the crimes of the Dursleys, but to him it was as if each answer he had received so far, raised at least two new questions. Where should he start?
"Why are you my guardian now, s...Albus?" he finally burst out.
"Because I have shown a keen interest in your well-being for a long time now. Did Professor Snape tell you that I have fought for years to prevent the advertising campaigns with you?"
"Yes, but he did not explain why. And he said that you yourself brought me to the Dursleys."
Albus took a sip of coffee before he started to explain. "Twelve years ago I helped your parents to hide themselves from Voldemort. It was a very uncertain time. The Ministry had been infiltrated by Voldemort's Death Eaters, and it was only a question of time before the Minister would be overthrown. And then abruptly, everything was over. Voldemort was defeated, and without him, his terrorist network fell apart. While the wizarding world celebrated, the Death Eaters had suddenly lost everything. Some fled. Others returned quietly to their own lives. But some fanatics led a few last attacks. In the early days, there was complete chaos. It took weeks before the Ministry prevailed in restoring order, and then only a few Death Eaters were ever made accountable for their actions."
So far, Harry had been listening silently, although he did not understand completely what it had to do with his question. But now indignation spread through him.
"They didn't try to bring the murderer's to justice?"
Albus smiled knowingly.
"During the first six months, the Wizengamot was occupied solely with Death Eater trials. Afterwards, the general need for revenge had been satisfied overall. People just wanted to forget and move on with their lives. The fact that many wizards felt guilty, because out of fear they provided services to Death Eaters or had refrained from lending assistance, certainly also played a role. Ultimately, only Voldemort's most fanatical supporters were condemned."
Harry nodded understandingly.
"But what does that have to do…"
"… with your question? Imagine the situation. The Ministry was barely able to maintain order, vengeful Death Eaters were still allowed to roam free, and now I had to decide what should happen with you. I knew that if the Ministry should interfere, it would be impossible to foretell with which family you would be placed. Your relatives were in more than one regard the best solution, even if I had my doubts. That is why as a precaution, I placed someone in the neighborhood to keep an eye on you. The reports that I received, were not promising. But I thought, better to be safe and secure, even if it was in a loveless home."
"But what security could the Dursleys offer that wizards couldn't?" contradicted Harry.
"Never underestimate the power of blood wards. As long as you lived in Petunia's home, neither Voldemort nor his followers could come close to you. However, I had not expected that a wizard would show a completely different kind of dangerous interest in you."
Harry listened tensely as Dumbledore told him of the custody dispute, and how he had finally succeeded in infiltrating Snape into the mansion, and how in the end, he had recognized the full extent of the Dursley's crimes.
"I ensured that during the examination, that you were asked the right questions, in the hope that the truth would come to light. And then I used my influence to obtain guardianship. It was the only way to make sure that you would end up in good hands."
Harry hoped and prayed that the old wizard spoke the truth and that he had no ulterior motives. But he supposed, that in any case, he was better off under his protection than that of the Ministry.
"And Dudley?"
"Dudley can also well use the protection of these walls. He has a difficult time ahead of him."
That was something to which Harry still had to grow accustomed. Dudley had always been the lucky child, the one who had everything. And suddenly, it was just the opposite. He, Harry, was rich and famous, and Dudley had lost everything. He almost felt pity for his cousin.
What did Albus think about Dudley? Still more importantly, what did he think about himself? So as unobtrusively as possible, he observed the eccentric appearance before him. Albus looked harmless and seemed nice, but Midas had been no different
"Do you have any more questions?"
Hundreds, but the question that Harry finally blurted out was: "Why do you have ribbons in your beard?"
Albus chuckled. "Have you any idea how long I would have to comb every morning if I did not braid my hair? I will loosen the plaits… if you want, you can help me. And we can also talk about your room."
"My room?" Harry asked confused.
"Naturally… the walls and the floor are still completely bare. And you must tell me what fabric your canopy should be… and the curtains. I have some samples here which you can look at."
Harry was speechless. He had thought that his room was bare because Albus didn't want to spend too much money, it he wasn't going to remain with him very long. But if he was allowing him to select even parts of the décor, than this was more than just temporary accommodations. He beamed. His time at Hogwarts was starting out promisingly.
In the morning (or rather noon), Dudley was bleary-eyed and bad-tempered. No wonder, since his first night at Hogwarts had been hell. A meager dinner (Dudley was used to at least three second helpings), a sore foot (which he got while kicking against the closed door), and the worst of all: no toys. Neither his GameBoy, nor his Walkman, nor his mini-television worked. And for this useless clutter he had left his supply of candy behind?
Frustrated, he had sulked in his room. He had noticed that it had been furnished exactly like that of the Freak. The small traces of magic had also not escaped his notice, like the tallow candles on his bedside table, which illuminated the whole room as bright as day, or the very much alive-looking paintings on the wall. On his, a rhinoceros was illustrated. For want of a television, Dudley had stared at it for hours, even if the 'program' had turned out to be extremely boring.
It was morning before he had dozed off completely exhausted. The thought of a future without his parents was scary to him, and the idea of having to live in the midst of vindictive wizards, even more so. And then there was still the need to take revenge on his cousin.
As Dudley drug himself out of bed, he realized that he had made a mistake the previous evening, behaving in such an unfriendly way. If he had been somewhat friendlier, the he certainly would have been able to persuade the old man to only punish the Freak. He had to find a way to get Dumbledore on his side… then he would be able to not only revenge himself, but it was also the best method of protecting his own future.
But first of all, it was a matter of ingratiating himself a little. So, he put on his best clothes, resolved to show his best behavior, and forced a smile on his face as he stepped from his room.
The smile froze on his face. The Freak had gotten there before him! He and Dumbledore sat under a window, so close together that he was practically sitting on the old man's lap, and they were leafing through a book. Dumbledore looked up.
"Good morning, Mr. Dursley. Or rather good day, I fear you are too late for breakfast, but lunch is ready anyway."
"Good morning!" Dudley said more or less politely. For a moment, he didn't know what else he should say, and then he asked, "Is that an interesting book?" He stepped a little bit closer.
"This is only a list of fabric patterns. We have just decided on how Harry's room should look. After lunch, you may also look through it and choose something." He snapped the book shut and got up. "I will change my clothes quickly and then we can go to lunch together."
At least the latter was good news. And, if Dudley thought about it, the first was as well. This dressing gown, and above all, those slippers… simply embarrassing.
His fingers itched to use the opportunity to polish off the Freak. But that would certainly only get him into trouble again. So the two boys were reduced to staring at each other with malicious glares, until Dumbledore returned. Together they descended the stairs, but after only six steps, Dumbledore stopped. He looked at a round glass disc, which was attached to the stone wall. A labyrinth of golden lines was burnt into it, and it pulsated in an even steady rhythm.
"It looks as though the corridor is ready," commented Dumbledore as he removed the object. "Now pay close attention!" He tapped three stones lightly with his finger and quiet 'ping' noises sounded. Then the wall opened before them and revealed a stone spiral staircase. The corridor was very narrow, so narrow, that Dudley just barely fit through, but fortunately, it was not very long. After about six spirals, they reached a round opening. Dudley looked around and found to his astonishment that they were in one of the corridors near the main entrance through which he had entered the evening before. But that was impossible! They had only come back down a very short distance on the stairs.
"I am still looking for a portrait which will guard the entrance for you," explained Dumbledore.
"The corridor was put in especially for us?" asked the Freak with irritating enthusiasm.
"Well, I thought that it would be better, if you didn't have to go through my office every time you wanted to return to your rooms. And it looks as though Hogwarts was particularly good to you. The Great Hall is directly around the corner."
Dudley had believed, that after this casual disregard for the laws of nature, not much could surprise him, however as soon as he entered the 'Great Hall', he knew better. Wizards were crazy! Why build such a big hall and then forget the ceiling?
"This is not the real sky. The ceiling is only enchanted so that it looks like the real sky. Fortunately, it is not too realistic, otherwise we would have spend half of autumn eating with umbrellas in our hands."
Harry giggled and Dudley managed dutiful a sort of laugh. The illusion, was so convincing, it was frightening.
"You may eat with us at the teacher's table. Most of the teachers have already departed," explained Dumbledore.
Indeed, only three people sat at the table: Mrs. McGonagall, another woman (small, plump, with untidy gray hair and shabby looking clothes) and a man (muscular, tanned, leathery-looking skin and close-cropped gray hair).
"You already know professor McGonagall. This is Professor Sprout; she teaches Herbology and is the head of Hufflepuff…"
Dudley had no idea what Hufflepuff meant, but obviously, Herbology had a lot to do with gardening. In any event, he noticed dirt under her fingernails as the small woman offered him her hand. He touched it very unwillingly, but she did not seem to notice.
"… and this is Professor Kettleburn. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures."
This time Dudley twitched, frightened of the offered hand, because it had no index finger. In the place where it should actually be, was only a smooth stub.
"Don't worry, little boy," said Professor Kettleburn with a grating voice, "it isn't contagious. I had once an unfortunate encounter with a bad-tempered Dugbog."
Unlike himself, the Freak hesitated only briefly before he shook the offered hand. Dudley observed that his face twisted lightly with pain. The grip of the man was probably quite strong. Then the Freak asked, "Where is Professor Snape?"
"He departed this morning," explained Professor Sprout. "His shift starts in early August."
Dudley was relieved. Snape's whole appearance made him afraid. His cousin, however, sounded very much disappointed as he repeated, "Shift?"
"The plants in the greenhouses must also be tended to during the holidays, particularly in greenhouses three, four, and five. The plants there do not get along well with house elves. Therefore, it is customary for the teachers of Herbology and Potions, the school nurse, and the Keeper of the Grounds, to each spend part of the holidays here. I normally take over the first shift, so that I can prepare the plants so that the others have less work later. Professor Snape has the third shift this year.
"That's why I'm still at Hogwarts," continued Professor Kettleburn, partially addressing Dumbledore. "There have been some cases of illness among the animals, and Hagrid must take over supervising the greenhouses in two weeks. He can use the extra hand this year, even if he has a different opinion."
Dudley now regarded this Hagrid as an idiot. If somebody offered his help, then you should take the opportunity to shift as much as possible onto him.
"Ah, there he is!"
An enormous man stepped into the hall and trudged towards them. Dudley hastily made a step to the side, so that Dumbledore now stood protectively in front of him. However, he remained completely quiet.
"Harry, you already know Hagrid. Mr. Dursley, may I present to you Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds or Hogwarts?"
The big man seemed to stand up even taller with the mention of the title. He held out his paw to Dudley, but he didn't move to take it. After all, he didn't want his fingers to be crushed.
Hagrid didn't seem to be disturbed, he just shrugged his shoulders and let him arm drop.
"Pleased to meet ya… shame I couldn'a brung you over the lake yesterday as well… but it 'twas a might unclear to me when you'd be arriving."
Dudley preferred to say nothing. Even if he were annoyed at the fact that he had been deprived of something, the idea of sitting alone in a boat with a giant, was not particularly tempting anyway.
All in all, he was generally not particularly impressed by the wizards, and that did not change during the course of the meal either. He mainly remained silent and listened, shoveling himself full of dessert at the earliest opportunity. Mostly, he couldn't really follow exactly where the conversation went, but the understood enough to realize it was just basically everyday topics. For example, Professor Sprout spoke long and wide about a plant with a peculiar name.
The conversation between Hagrid and Kettleburn aroused concern in him. They were saying that the forest surrounding the castle was filled with dangerous beasts, and that was why the students were strictly forbidden from entering it. For the first time in his life, Dudley decided to comply with a rule. He would not get within a hundred meters of this forest!
However, the most common theme was 'Harry'. How he liked Hogwarts. Whether he had already looked around. What subjects he might prefer. Dudley had never felt so neglected in his whole life. Not that the opinion of these strange teachers meant anything to him, after all they were just stupid employees. Nevertheless, it did hurt that 'Harry' was so much more interesting.
The teachers gradually said goodbye, but Dudley did not intend to terminate his meal prematurely. Dumbledore watched him patiently while he ate, but when he reached a second time for the pudding, he remarked, "Perhaps it would be appropriate let a little modesty prevail, Mr. Dursley."
"Why? There's enough here," Dudley said simply. He would let nothing and nobody spoil his lunch.
"As you wish. I have things which to attend to. Therefore, I will see you at dinner."
Dudley was not surprised that the Freak interpreted this as an opportunity to leave the table, too. Should he! Sooner or later, Dudley would catch him. But for now, his primary importance was to take precautions, in the event that dinner turned out to be meager again.
He ate until he really could not cram any more into himself. Contentedly, he leaned back in his chair. The food here actually wasn't all that horrible, even if he would have preferred to drink Cola instead of pumpkin juice.
The feeling of contentment did not last long, because now he was again faced with the same problem as the evening before, what should he do with his time? Explore the castle? No! Better not! All that running around would be a lot of work. And a school, which stood on the edge of a forest that was teeming with dangerous creatures, would certainly conceal all sorts of dangers.
So Dudley decided to return to his room. Namely by the shortest way, through the main entrance door to the Great Hall, then straight ahead to the armor with the blue plume and then just around the corner to the left. At least he thought. But the opening was not in this direction. There was not even a corner. Instead, the path lay directly straight ahead.
So back again… maybe it was to the right of the armor… no… that was not the way, because it went down in the opposite direction into the not very inviting looking dungeon. But there was only one suit of armor with a blue plume… perhaps he made a mistake? Which direction had they come from then? Had they not come out right next to the door? Then perhaps it was this way… yes, at least there was a corner.
"Wheeeeeee..." a small man, whose colorful clothes assaulted the eye, especially the orange bow tie and the cap decorated with bells, flew through the wall. When he saw Dudley, he stopped.
"What is this? There is still a student left."
"I-I am not a student." Dudley ventured to correct him.
"No?" The bells clattered when the man flew around him and looked him over from all sides. "But you're the size of one."
As if the guy was any bigger than he was. But Dudley didn't dare say it too loudly.
"But you're twice as wide. Have you possibly gotten lost? The dining room is in the other direction. And the kitchen is one floor below."
"I am not lost!" Dudley proclaimed offended. "I just wanted to return to the tower."
"Oh, then you're looking for the new passage, aren't you? Then you definitely shouldn't go this way."
"Then where should I go?"
"How should I know? I haven't seen the new passageway yet."
"Then how do you know I shouldn't go this way?"
"Because this way is always wrong. Especially when Peeeeeeeeeeeves the Poltergeist is this way!"
The man came at him in a nosedive, his face twisted into a malicious grimace. Before he could catch him, Dudley took off running down the corridor, up the next set of stairs and along another corridor, until he noticed that the poltergeist had not pursued him at all. He rested for a moment before he started on his way back. He would have rather taken a different route, but he didn't want to risk getting even more lost. Cautiously looking around, he went back down the corridor by which he had just come. But what was this? The staircase, which he had just come up, had disappeared.
"Are you lost?"
The question startled Dudley, but this time it was asked by a monk, which was in the painting next to him. He sat leisurely under a tree on a riverbank, nibbling on a chicken leg. On the other side of the river, a chapel could be seen.
"I'm looking for the stairs that I came up," explained Dudley.
"That started on the ground floor? On odd days, those only go upwards. And on even ones, only down. Tomorrow you can find them here." The monk pointed with his chicken leg to the left.
"I can't wait until tomorrow!" Dudley protested. "What floor am I on?" it occurred to him to ask.
"On the fifth. If you want to return to the ground floor again, then you must go along the corridor, past the second turn on the right side, and then down the stairs. Then you will have reached the second floor. Then first turn to the right, and then go back along the corridor to the marble staircase. Down them and you have come again to the ground floor. I would accompany you partway, but I expect a friend. He comes over every day to discuss with me about best way to cross the river."
Whatever. In any event, the monk seemed to be trustworthy, so Dudley followed his directions. The second corridor on the right, the stairs down to the second floor… and then… then… what did the monk say?
Down the corridor… or maybe not? Didn't the monk say something about to the right? Dudley ran a few times back and forth, and eventually he found the marble staircase. Relieved, he started down, when suddenly a terrifying sight emerged before him. A ghost stained with blood from top to bottom! Without hesitating, Dudley turned around, rushed up the stairs and hid in the first room, whose door he could open.
"This is a girl's toilet! You have no business here!"
Dudley spun around frightened. Another ghost! However, this time it was a girl with pigtails and unattractive glasses, which in comparison with the last two apparitions, seemed rather harmless. So (and because he felt unable to change his position again) he dared to protest, "There aren't any girls here anyway. These are the holidays."
"And what am I?" shrieked the ghost.
"Dead?" was Dudley's spontaneous answer.
The spirit burst into tears howling. The howl chilled Dudley to the bone, but it made him even more concerned about something else.
"Uh… how did you die then?" He did not want to end up with the same fate happening to him.
The response was astonishing. Suddenly the tears dried up and the ghost girl coquettishly twisted the end of her pigtail.
"Do you really want to know? Well, it's quite a gruesome story. I died right here. There, in that cubicle. I wanted to be alone, because Olive Hornby had teased me because of my glasses. And then suddenly I heard a voice. A boy's voice and he was making strange sounds. I opened the door to tell him that he had no business here…"
The last words she spoke with such vehemence, that Dudley took a frightened step backwards.
"…and then I was dead."
"Just like that?" Dudley looked around nervously.
"Well, I saw a big yellow pair of eyes. But yes, just like that!"
"And… when was that?"
"No idea! Time doesn't mean much to a ghost. But it was quite a long time ago. Dumbledore was still teaching Transfiguration."
The time reference didn't really help Dudley much, but at least her death didn't seem to be a recent event. The story about the eyes, however, was very scary.
"Are you the youngest ghost here?"
"Well, that depends on how you define young. Cuthbert Binns passed away after me, so theoretically he is the youngest ghost."
More dead students? This was getting worse.
"And how did he die?"
"Oh, nothing special. He died of old age. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows that he's dead. If he ever was alive actually."
Old age? Apparently, he had to ask the question a different way to find out what he really wanted to know.
"Are there other children ghosts here?"
"No, I'm the only one. It surprises me that you have never heard of me. But I should know better. Who cares about miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle?!"
"I'm not a wizard! I actually still know nothing about the wizarding world," Dudley said quickly, before she burst out crying again.
"Oh, a Muggle? How interesting! It's been decades since I've seen one."
Her obvious interest puffed up Dudley again. At least one person (Creature? Being?), here in the castle found him interesting and not the Freak! Myrtle was a real loser (to be teased and then die on the toilet? Could it get more humiliating?), but still she was ready to listen to him. So he willingly told her of his life as a 'Muggle'.
After lunch, Harry impulsively decided to first explore the grounds, knowing full well that Dudley, after they had been warned about the dangers of the Forbidden Forest, wouldn't dare to go out of the door. He started out by wandering by the greenhouses and peering in the glass windows. He already knew some of the plants, but most he had only seen in illustrations. He avoided the small hut at the edge of the forest (Albus had mentioned that Mr. Hagrid lived there, and the huge man made him a little scared) and went instead toward the lake. In the daylight, it looked pleasant and idyllic, and in spite of its strange inhabitants, Harry dared to cool his feet in it for a while. Now he just stood admiring the Quidditch field.
He was thinking about getting his Nimbus 2001 from the castle, when he heard a deep voice ring out.
"Well, Harry, have you been looking around a little?
He whirled around frightened. Mr. Hagrid stood behind him, a basket under his arm, which was about the size of a baby's cradle. He nodded nervously.
"How would you like to pop over and come to tea?"
Still nervous, Harry shook his head. "I've just eaten."
"Ah right you are… but maybe you'd like to meet my animals?"
Harry's first impulse was to decline this offer as well. But then he noticed that the dark eyes of the big man looked at him a little sadly. He didn't have the heart to disappoint him. He nodded. "That would be nice, Mr. Hagrid."
"Forget the 'Mister'. Everyone here just calls me Hagrid."
At the door to the hut, they were greeted by a tail-wagging dog. The only dog that Harry had seen up until now, had been Aunt Marge's dog 'Ripper'. She herself had ignored him, like most people, but one afternoon her 'small darling' had hunted him all over the estates, until Midas had saved him. At that time Harry had been five and the dog still almost a puppy, but nevertheless, his teeth had still impressed him.
He stayed cautiously away from the huge dog… he seemed to be friendly. In any case, he didn't growl like Ripper. But Harry didn't want to risk it. Hagrid noticed his uncertainty.
"Don't worry, Fang is harmless. At worst he'll slobber all over you when he greets you."
Harry preferred not to depend on it, and slipped as quickly as possible into the hut. The interior was bigger than the exterior would suggest. Beside the door, a pink umbrella stood in a tall barrel. On one wall was a cabinet with dozens of small and medium sized compartments. Over the enormous fireplace hung a pot, but the fire did not burn. When Hagrid went to the narrow table to put down the basket, he had to bend down slightly, because from the ceiling all sorts of items and herbs hung on silvery threads.
On the windowsill sat a sickly looking owl. Her white plumage had partly fallen our and looked a little disheveled. One of her wings was bound up with a white dressing and a splint. And another bandage wrapped around her body. Harry stepped to her side.
"What happened to her?" he asked.
"Her owner treated her badly. He brought her to school last year and bragged about her. He claimed that she was the best flyer in Hogwarts. Not that he was wrong. She flew to Australia and back for him, just so that little idiot could win a stupid bet. Then something attacked her over the Forbidden Forest and gave her a nasty wound. She was probably too tired to be able to avoid it better. Still she managed to make it to the Great Hall where she fell into her owner's porridge. She was covered him in it from top to bottom, and broke her wing in the process. But instead of looking after her, he only whinged about his mucked up robes, and just left her there."
Harry was horrified.
"After she took flew such a long way for him?" He looked at the owl. "Your owner was pretty stupid, huh?" The owl made a confirming sound. "Ah, you are quite smart, aren't you? At the end you probably fell deliberately into his porridge, as revenge for the long unnecessary flight." Did the owl actually wink at him conspiratorially? "Mmm, I think for me this would have been worth a broken wing, too. May I pet you? I'll be very careful."
To Harry's surprise, she leaned slightly in his direction. With the greatest of care, he stoked her on the head, the only part of her broken body that was not covered by bandages.
"Her name is Duchess," explained Hagrid. Fang made himself at home on Harry's feet, perhaps in the hope of also being petted, but the boy hardly noticed him. For her part, the owl returned his affection by nipping gently at his finger.
"Well, at least he gave her a fitting name. You are a real little lady, aren't you?" Duchess blinked at him angrily and stretched herself a little. "Excuse me, of course, a great lady."
"I have to interrupt you for a minute. It's time to change her dressings."
Harry took a step to the side (and nearly tripped over Fang) then watched as Hagrid removed the dressing around its body. The wound underneath seemed to be really deep.
"Unfortunately, I cannot treat her with magic. Not as long as I don't know exactly what attached her. But the herbs will help."
"What happens when she is healthy again? Does she have to be returned to her owner?"
"Luckily not," growled Hagrid. "Hogwarts rules there are very clear. If a student mistreats his pet, then as punishment it becomes the possession of the school, even if his rich father sits on the school board."
"But if she is a school owl, can't her former owner still use her?"
"It would surprise me if any of the school owls will be willing to deliver something for him in the future. The students may not realize this, but the school owls deliver messages for them because they like to do it, not because they must. Here, hold her for a moment!"
Harry helped Hagrid to fix up Duchess, and then afterwards he was allowed to give her some water and food. He was told all kinds of interesting facts, all about owls, and later about dogs. When Harry left the hut about two hours later, his fear of the big man and his dog had vanished. Counting Duchess, he had three new friends.
Cheerfully, he took a long route on the way back to the castle. This time he went the opposite way, along the wall that surrounded the grounds. However, when he came to the entrance, his good mood evaporated suddenly. The wrought-iron curlicues reminded him of another gate, the one which from his childhood that had blocked him from the outside world. The lock to it had been electronic, and this one was secured with a heavy chain and a padlock. But, did it really make a difference?
Note: I am well aware that JK Rowling stated in an interview that Filch was the only one who stayed throughout the summer at Hogwarts. Apart fromthe fact, that I regard interviews only conditionally as Cannon, I think that she had not properly thought the answer through. For the following reasons:
1. Hagrid's hut is described in the books very much like a constant residence. Apart from the holidays, after the fourth year when he travels to the Giants, there is never any indication that he ever left Hogwarts. On the contrary, after the first year he uses the Hogwart's owls to send Harry birthday gifts, and in the first book he had to take the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts, in the second book he worried during the holidays about protecting the school garden from flesh-eating slugs, and in the sixth book he says that Hogwarts had been his home since he was thirteen.
2. As I have shown in this chapter, someone must take care of the greenhouses and the animals. I could imagine that the house elves might take care of the plants, but what about the animals? Apart from plot and technical reasons, I chose to have Snape Sprout and Pomfrey, as the ones to tend to the plants, because they all need plants for their jobs. Hagrid, because I wanted to have four people and since he is the keeper of the grounds, and that must mean something.
3. The letters to the Hogwart's students all arrive during the holidays, so someone must be there to write them. Even if an automatic quill did this, someone would still have to stuff the envelopes and send them. And even if this was also somehow done automatically, there must be someone (precisely: McGonagall) to respond to the questions of the parents of the new students. Because if no one was there, they might not have even known that Harry hadn't replied, or had never received the letters at all. Therefore, I assume that McGonagall remains at the school, at least for the first few weeks of the holidays, until all the letters have been sent and the responses received.
And yes: Duchess is Hedwig!