Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 21- Rita Skeeter's Scoop
Everybody gets up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor common room is much quieter than it has been lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy conversations. Hermione's hair is bushy again; she confessed to Harry that she had me use liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on it for the ball, "but it's way too much bother to do every day," she says matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears.
Ron and Hermione seem to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. They are being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Ron and Harry waste no time in telling Hermione and me about the conversation they overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione doesn't find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron did.
"Well, I thought he must be," she says, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible. . . . It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves. . . . It's just bigotry, isn't it?"
"I thought that everyone could tell? Not many humans would ever grow to that height naturally." I muse.
Ron looks like he wants to reply scathingly, but perhaps he doesn't want another row, because he contents himself with shaking his head disbelievingly while Hermione isn't looking. I roll my eyes at the closed mindedness of my friend. Sometimes I don't understand how he could even function properly.
Of course now that all the excitement has died down it was time again for everyone to be focused on the fact that homework was still to be done in preparation for the start of the new term. I can personally hardly believe that this year is almost over, and I have yet to be personally thrust into a life or death situation. It's kind of weird to be honest. That didn't stop the oncoming of school though.
Snow is still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows are covered in condensation so thick that we can't see out of them in Herbology. Nobody is looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures much in this weather, though as Ron says, the skrewts will probably warm us up nicely, either by chasing us, or blasting off so forcefully that Hagrid's cabin will catch fire.
When we arrive at Hagrid's cabin, however, we find an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.
"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barks at us as we struggle towards her through the snow.
"Who're you?" asks Ron, staring at her. "Where's Hagrid?"
"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she says briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."
"Where's Hagrid?" Harry repeats loudly. Somehow I don't think that Hagrid is off having vacation at a warm beach.
"He is indisposed," states Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly. Soft and unpleasant laughter reaches my ears. I turn; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins are joining the class. All of them look gleeful, and none of them look surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank. I swear I'll learn how to transfigure a human one day and when I do, Malfoy will be spending plenty time in ferret form.
"This way, please," says Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strides off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses are shivering. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I follow her, looking back over our shoulders at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains are closed. Is Hagrid in there, alone and ill?
"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry asks, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank.
"Never you mind," she says as though she thinks he is being nosy.
"I do mind, though," says Harry hotly. "What's up with him?" Professor Grubbly-Plank acts as though she can't hear him. She leads us past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses are standing, huddled against the cold, and towards a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn is tethered.
Many of the girls "oooooh!" at the sight of the unicorn. Even though my reaction isn't the same as the rest of them, I do have to admit that the creature is rather fantastic. I can see why both muggles and wizards alike would be fascinated with them.
"Oh it's so beautiful!" whispers Lavender Brown. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!" The unicorn is so brightly white it makes the snow all around look gray. It is pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head.
"Boys keep back!" barks Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it. . . ."
I roll my eyes as I follow behind an excited Hermione. I allow everyone else to go in front of me because even though it is a wonderful sight, part of me just doesn't care for the creature. I guess it must be all that dragon's blood running through me. I chuckle to myself at the thought.
I glance back at the boys to see Malfoy and his buffoons looking smug, while Harry and Ron look over the Daily Prophet. Finding their confrontation much more interesting than a unicorn I make my way back over to them. "Really I thought that you two would know better than anyone not to read the trash that rag publishes." I comment coming to a stop to glance at the article they're reading.
Harry looks ready to punch something or someone by the way his knuckles are turning white while gripping the paper. Ron just looks disgusted personally. I glare at the paper finally understanding that its Hagrid being half giant that's the topic of the article. It was written by my favorite parasite of a reporter as well, which is just perfect.
"How did she find out?" Ron whispers, looking at the two of us worriedly.
"How does she find out anything, she takes a shot in the dark, then makes up the rest. That's how she operates." I growl. Harry is not even following along with our conversation.
"What d'you mean, 'we all hate Hagrid'?" Harry spits at Malfoy. "What's this rubbish about him" — he points at Crabbe — "getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They haven't even got teeth!"
Crabbe is sniggering, apparently very pleased with himself. "Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career," says Malfoy, his eyes glinting. "Half-giant . . . and there was me thinking he'd just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young. . . . None of the mummies and daddies are going to like this at all. . . . They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha. . . ."
"If Hagrid were to swallow you Malfoy that'd probably be a relief to your parents Malfoy, oh, excuse me, ferret." I snarl at the cretin. His cheeks tinge pink and he glares right back at me.
"At least I have parents unlike you and Potter. Yours couldn't even stand the sight of you long enough to stick around before you were out of diapers." He shoots back. That's it. This has gone long enough. I push past both a furious Harry and a growling Ron, and stalk straight up to Malfoy. He keeps smirking until I'm up into his personal space.
I move so that I can whisper into his ear. "Listen here you slimy ferret. You speak one more ill word about my parents let alone Harry's, and I will make sure that you will never be able to advance the house of Malfoy into its next generation. And that is a promise that I plan to keep." With that I pull away to see his ghostly white face.
I draw farther away, and a faint smirk graces his face when he thinks that I'm not going to do anything. That was wrong for him to think. I slam my knee up into his groin with satisfying force. A squeak escapes his lips, and he falls to the snow with tears in his eyes.
All the boys are watching me with wide eyes, and luckily the girls and professor are too occupied to see what had occurred here. "Bloody hell Jamie. Thank Merlin you're on our side." Ron breathes looking at the felled Malfoy a little longer. And that's when the substitute teacher decides to turn around and make sure that the rest of her class is actually paying attention.
"Are you boys paying attention over there?" Professor Grubbly-Plank demands. She takes an obvious balk seeing me standing with them as well, but thankfully she chooses not to address the issue. Her eye does fall on Malfoy who is still laying in the snow trying to shield his intimate area lest another attack comes from me.
"You boy! Why are you laying in the snow?" She demands, staring to gather the attention of some of the girls over at the unicorn. Malfoy manages to pull himself up, and I'm ready for the sob story, and the immediate dismissal to Professor Dumbledore.
"N-nothing Professor! I just slipped is all." Malfoy says quickly, and Harry, Ron, and I have to fight back the surprised looks on our faces. Malfoy never lets go of a situation to get one of us in trouble. There must be something really wrong with him to allow it to get this far.
The Professor just starts to talk louder to make sure that the rest of us can hear, and starts talking about the magical properties of unicorns, which I have already learned thanks to the never-ending fount of knowledge called Hermione and Luka.
"I hope she stays, that woman!" says Parvati Patil when the lesson has ended and we are all heading back to the castle for lunch. "That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like . . . proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters. . . ."
"What about Hagrid?" Harry says angrily as we march up the steps.
"What about him?" says Parvati in a hard voice. "He can still be gamekeeper, can't he?" Things had been bad between her and the boys recently. Ron treated her so badly that she's looped Harry into the group that she hates as well.
"That was a really good lesson," says Hermione as we enter the Great Hall. "I didn't know half the things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni —"
"Look at this!" Harry snarls, and he shoves the Daily Prophet article under Hermione's nose. Hermione's mouth falls open as she reads. Her reaction is exactly the same as Ron's.
"How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid told her?"
"No," says Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, furious. "He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him back."
"Its not like that scenario is a long shot mind you. Daily Prophet— let us fill your head with untrue, mindless, mush!" I state making a nice little headline for all of this.
"Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball," says Hermione quietly.
"We'd have seen her in the garden!" says Ron. "Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her. . . ."
"Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak," says Harry, ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it everywhere in his anger. "Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people."
"Like you and Ron did, you mean," says Hermione.
"Could be possible. I was out there and I didn't overhear Hagrid talking at all, didn't see anyone either." I comment thinking back to my time alone with Ariana.
"We weren't trying to hear him!" cries Ron indignantly. "We didn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!"
"We've got to go and see him," says Harry. "This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back . . . you do want him back?" he shoots at Hermione.
"I — well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once — but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!" Hermione adds hastily, quailing under Harry's furious stare. He seriously needs to take a step back and calm down about this whole Hagrid situation.
So that evening after dinner, the four of us leave the castle once more and go down through the frozen grounds to Hagrid's cabin. We knock, and Fang's booming barks answer.
"Hagrid, it's us!" Harry shouts, pounding on the door. "Open up!" Hagrid doesn't answer. We can hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it doesn't open. We hammer on it for ten more minutes; Ron even goes and bangs on one of the windows, but there is no response.
"Maybe he's not there. It wouldn't be the first time he's been gone." I say shivering slightly in the cold. Less than a half hour ago I was warm and stuffed with food, now I'm frozen and it feels like there's a lead weight in my stomach— not the way I had pictured my night going.
"What's he avoiding us for?" Hermione says when we have finally given up and are walking back to the school. "He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?"
When we get back to the common room though, I approach my favorite redheaded twins and plop down next to them by the fire. "Well don't you look just fozen." George comments with a raise of his eyebrow. I roll my eyes, and focus on regaining the feeling in my hands.
"Harry took us on a field trip outside. I was bloody fantastic." I mutter crossly, and Fred sets down his textbook— I know, I'm shocked too.
"Well that sounds just dreadful Jame— want us to stuff a canary cream into him?" Fred asks me a mischievous light in his eye. I see George nod his head rapidly as well. I chuckle but shake my head at that.
"No, but there is something that you can do for me boys. I think that it's time that our esteemed guests got a little bit of the entertaining side of Hogwarts charm." I say a grin beginning to form on my face. It only takes the pair of them a second to realize what I'm suggesting.
"Done and done. We've been waiting for this moment." Fred says quickly staring to bounce excitedly in his seat.
"Those stuck up prats won't even know what hit them." George agrees evilly. I lean back in my seat, and relax as something finally decides to start going my way.
But it seems that Hagrid does care what people think. We don't see a sign of him all week. He doesn't appear at the staff table at mealtimes, we don't see him going about his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor Grubbly-Plank continues to take the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Malfoy is gloating at every possible opportunity, but I've taken care to ignore him since I don't want to push my luck at how oblivious the Professor is, and how willing Malfoy is to keep his silence.
There is a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Hermione is very surprised that Harry is coming with us.
"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she says. "Really get to work on that egg."
"Oh I — I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now," Harry says with an unusually straight face. I hadn't heard him talk about any progress with the egg. That'd be something that Harry would definitely brag about if he had actually solved it.
"Have you really?" says Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done!" I roll my eyes knowing that our friend hasn't actually gotten what the next challenge is.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I leave the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As we pass the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, we see Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He is very skinny indeed, but apparently a lot tougher than he looks, because he climbs up onto the side of the ship, stretches out his arms, and dives, right into the lake. I glance over at Hermione and see that her eyes have glazed over watching him. With a groan I try to erase that mental image from my memory.
"He's mad!" says Harry, staring at Krum's dark head as it bobs out into the middle of the lake. "It must be freezing, it's January!"
"It's a lot colder where he comes from," says Hermione. "I suppose it feels quite warm to him."
"Yeah, but there's still the giant squid," says Ron. He doesn't sound anxious — if anything, he sounds hopeful. Hermione notices his tone of voice and frowns.
"He's really nice, you know," she says. "He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me."
Ron says nothing. He hasn't mentioned Viktor Krum since the ball, but Harry to me that he had found a miniature arm under his bed on Boxing Day, which looked very much as though it had been snapped off a small model figure wearing Bulgarian Quidditch robes.
Harry and I keep our eyes peeled for a sign of Hagrid all the way down the slushy High Street, and suggest a visit to the Three Broomsticks once we have ascertained that Hagrid is not in any of the shops.
The pub is as crowded as ever, but one quick look around at all the tables tells me that Hagrid isn't there. Heart sinking, we go up to the bar with Ron and Hermione, and order three butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta.
"Doesn't he ever go into the office?" Hermione whispers suddenly. "Look!"
She points into the mirror behind the bar, and I see Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman is talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom have their arms crossed and are looking rather menacing.
"He never quite out grew his glory days." I say simply, very much looking forward to getting some warm butterbeer into me.
Suddenly Bagman hurries over to us and whisks Harry away to talk to him in private. While Harry is being held captured by the Ministry official, the three of us make our way over to a booth where we can sit and relax with our butter beer. No sooner than we'd sat down does the familiar face of Ariana Dumbledore plop down beside me.
"Well if it hasn't been a tiring week I'll say. I swear I need a vacation for the beginning of this school year already." She huffs exhaustedly. I roll my eyes as the girl slumps against me.
"Don't tell me that the pressure of being a Dumbledore has finally gotten to you?" I joke lightly. Ariana turns her warm brown eyes to me and glares at me playfully.
"No more than being a Pendragon has been for you." Ariana fires back, "Just for that you owe me a dance Jamie."
My eyes widen at that. "W-what?" I stutter attempting to not choke on my butterbeer. Ariana ignores my sputtering and grabs me by the hand pulling me out of my seat and over to the open area where live bands sometimes come and play. I catch my brother's gaze as he sits with a few of his friends. He quirks an eyebrow up at the two of us, and I mouth for him to save me. Of course the jerk does nothing but snicker.
He should have kept a straight fact though, for in a flash Ariana is over by him, and pulling him to his feet as well, hauling him over to where I'm still standing. "Really Ariana… must we do this in front of people that we know?" Luka whines coming to a halt next to me. The blond Dumbledore only fixes the pair of us with firm gazes that mean business.
Suddenly music is softly flowing into the pub, and more than a few people turn their confused gazes to us. After a second the familiar twang of the folk song comes to me, and I can't help but let out a faint grin. Luka catches my gaze and shrugs his shoulders at me. At least Ariana is making us perform one of our more enjoyable past times.
The three of us split apart, and start moving in the traditional jig fashion, before combing, and dancing connected together. Those dancing lessons that the three of us went through weren't all horrible. People started getting into the music and clapping to the beat. Some of the braver souls got up to join the three of us stomping our feet, and twirling in the correct places.
The grin on Ariana's face totally made up for the initial feeling of public embarrassment. She looks much happier than she has been for the past couple of days. When it comes to the partner swing, before some boy could grab onto my hand, Ariana swoops in, and moves us fluidly into the swing. I laugh and raise a challenging eyebrow at the girl.
Her cheeks tinge pink, but the Hufflepuff says nothing in return. By the end of the fourth song I'm panting and too tired to consider dancing another song. The music stops playing and a healthy round of applause goes up from the patrons. I turn to Ariana and see that happy glint in her eye, yet she's panting harder than I am.
"As always a lovely time Lady Ariana." I say with a swooping bow. Ariana flushes and gives me a curtsy. Luka comes over to me, and we high five each other with grins on our faces.
"Still have it Pendragon." I say cheekily. Luka grins and spins on his heel.
"You too Pendragon." He replies, and with that I make my way back over to my table and collapse into the booth beside Harry who had joined Hermione and Ron while I was away.
"Have fun Jame?" Ron asks with a smirk on his face. I shoot him a dirty glare, and practically drain the rest of my butterbeer in one gulp.
"You did look rather comfortable out there Jamie." Hermione says with a smile. I roll my eyes at her, muttering under my breath about this being the pick on Jamie day.
Suddenly Harry tugs on my arm and gestures to the front door. Rita Skeeter has just entered. She is wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails are painted shocking pink, and she is accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She brings drinks, and she and the photographer make their way through the crowds to a table nearby, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I glaring at her as she approaches. She is talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.
". . . didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights . . . what nonsense . . . he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman . . . ' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo — we just need to find a story to fit it —"
"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" says Harry loudly. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting in laughter at his audacity.
A few people look around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widen behind her jeweled spectacles as she sees who has spoken.
"Harry!" she says, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join — ?"
"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," says Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?" Rita Skeeter raises her heavily penciled eyebrows.
"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my —"
"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouts. "There's nothing wrong with him!" I nod my head firm and cross my arms over my chest. There's nothing that I despise more than someone who thinks that they're better than someone else just because of the blood running thought their veins.
The whole pub has gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta is staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she is filling with mead is overflowing.
Rita Skeeter's smile flickers very slightly, but she hitches it back almost at once; she snaps open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulls out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and says, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"
Hermione stands up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it is a grenade. Please Merlin let Hermione throw the butterbeer onto that pastel peacock.
"You horrible woman," she says, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman —"
"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," says Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fall on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl . . . not that it needs it —" she adds, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair. That's it.
"I'd be careful with what you claim Miss Skeeter. I once had a very famous professor who claimed to have known and been able to do many things, but rather unfortunately for him, his claims were false. I'd hate to see what happened to him happen to you as well Miss Skeeter, for you've messed with the wrong person." I say lowly enough for her to hear. The quill under her spell shakes in fear.
"Let's go," says Hermione, "c'mon, Harry — Ron . . . Jamie!" Hermione grabs onto my arm and pulls me forcedly through the pub back out into the cold, which jars me out of my fury. I shiver violently, and Ron drapes my coat over my shoulders.
"I hate that woman." I mutter slipping my arms through my cloak.
"She'll be after you next, Hermione," says Ron in a low and worried voice as we walk quickly back up the street.
"Let her try!" says Hermione defiantly; she is shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid . . ."
"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," says Ron nervously. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you —"
"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" says Hermione, now striding along so fast that it is all Harry, Ron, and I can do to keep up with her. The last time I had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy around the face. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"
Breaking into a run, she leads us all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin.
The curtains are still drawn, and we can hear Fang barking as we approach. "Hagrid!" Hermione shouts, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being —"
The door opens. Hermione starts, "About t — !" and then stops, very suddenly, because she finds herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.
"Headmaster!" I cry surprised to see him there.
"Good afternoon," he says pleasantly, smiling down at us.
"We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid," says Hermione in a rather small voice.
"Yes, I surmised as much," says Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you come in?"
"Oh . . . um . . . okay," says Hermione. I give my best friend a slight push into the hut for she's still shocked at having inadvertently yelling at Professor Dumbledore.
We all go into the cabin; Fang launches himself upon Harry the moment he enters, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fends off Fang and I look around.
Hagrid is sitting at his table, where there are two large mugs of tea. He looks a real mess. His face is blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he has gone to the other extreme where his hair is concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looks like a wig of tangled wire.
"Hi, Hagrid," I say softly. Hagrid looks up.
"'Lo," he says in a very hoarse voice.
"More tea, I think," says Dumbledore, closing the door behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, and me drawing out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appears in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicks the tray onto the table, and everybody sits down. There is a slight pause, and then Dumbledore says, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"
Hermione goes slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiles at her and continues, "Hermione, Jamie, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."
"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry says, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor," he adds quickly, looking at Dumbledore.
"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," says Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.
"Er — right," says Harry sheepishly. "I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that — woman — wrote about you?" Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.
"Come on Hagrid. That horrid woman has written more than a few articles on my family and no one takes what she says all that seriously. Besides you're the best Care of Magical Creature professor that I've ever had! I haven't almost died in days!" I exclaim.
"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," says Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —"
"Not all of 'em," says Hagrid hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."
"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," says Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"
"Yeh — yeh're not half-giant!" says Hagrid croakily.
"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry says furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!" I shudder thinking about those hideous excuses for human beings.
"An excellent point," says Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery. . . ."
"That's not even the worst it can be Hagrid. I'm related to a murderer who killed most of my family. If that's not a horrible relation then I don't know what is." I say softly. Everyone turns a pained look on me but I refuse to turn my gaze away from Hagrid.
"Come back and teach, Hagrid," says Hermione quietly, "please come back, we really miss you."
Hagrid gulps. More tears leak out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.
Dumbledore stands up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he says. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Jamie a word if I may? Good afternoon to you all."
With that Dumbledore exits the hut, and I nervously get up to follow behind him. As soon as the door to Hagrid hut closes the senior Dumbledore turns to regard me. "I wanted to talk about Augustus Jamie. I know that from a rather unfortunate circumstance you found out about him. I want to warn you Jamie about matters when it comes to your Uncle. His past is tied so closely to Riddle's that if you attempt to find out what truly happened to your parents, that you may not like what you find." Dumbledore warns me gently. I bite down on my lower lip hard to keep the questions from pouring out of me.
"Do you know what truly happened sir?" I ask him softly. Dumbledore glances at me and I can see from the look in his eyes that he knows more than he's willing to tell me.
"I dare say that we will only ever know what really happened if Augustus himself ever chose to tell us himself. Now I best be getting back to the castle. Work never is far for Professors I'm afraid." He tells me, and with that he starts up the hill to the castle. I stand there for a few minutes glaring at the ground underneath my feet, fighting the unruly feelings that keep popping up when I think about what happened to my family.
Suddenly there's a hand on my arm, and I look up to see Harry giving me a worried look. "Come on then. Let's get going. Dinner should be ready soon." He tells me with a smile. We run to catch up with Hermione and Ron who are bickering, and I roll my eyes.
When we get to the Great Hall an uproar greets us as the Beauxbatons students are wearing Durmstrang uniforms, and the Durmstrang boys the Beauxbatons girls' uniforms. All of the Hogwarts students clothes got swapped to be wearing robes of the opposite houses. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have switched, and Ravenclaw and Slytherin switched as well. Ariana caught my eye and shook her head at the Gryffindor lion adorning her chest. I grinned back at her and pointed to the badger on mine. I have to admit that Ariana does look good in my house's robes. At least something good came out of this evening, getting to watch Fleur Delacour faint from the stench in her baggy uniform.