It had been a long time since Harry had seen Rubeus Hagrid. He still lived on the Hogwarts grounds in his hut. And the man had aged quite a bit in the past four years. As with many people, the war had taken its toll on the half-giant and it manifested itself in the silver streaks in his hair. It was only then that Harry realised Hagrid's true age.
If Hagrid had been twelve at the time Tom Riddle had framed him for releasing the monster from the Chamber of Secrets, that had to mean the half-giant was now pushing seventy years of age. Hagrid didn't really show any signs of aging except in his hair, however. He was still just as cheerful and pleasant as he usually was.
"I've healed 'er up, good as new, Harry," Hagrid said. "Think she just got 'er a bad batch of mice."
Not long after Harry defeated Voldemort, Hagrid had gifted him with another owl. "A victory gift", Hagrid had said. At first, Harry had felt betrayed instead of grateful, as if he were replacing Hedwig instead of just getting another courier. Harry hadn't even given her a name at first. But the little female owl had grown on him until he at last felt like accepting her as a friend. Nike was tiny and better-suited to carrying letters instead of anything else, but Harry loved her. She was a little spitfire of a bird and loved to be right about everything. It was that reason along with the fact she was a victory gift that Harry had given her a name like "Nike". Nike was the Greek goddess of victory.
Nike had taken ill for some mysterious reason and Harry knew that if anybody could help his little northern saw-whet owl, it would be Hagrid. So Harry contacted his old friend and the half-giant had boarded and made certain Nike was again the very picture of health. Harry stroked Nike's head as she blinked and hooted contently. She had missed him as much as he'd missed her. Harry went to pay Hagrid for his services, but the half-giant would hear none of it.
"Tell yeh what, Harry. If yeh stay wi' me an' talk 'bout old times over a pint, that'll be payment enough for me. I've missed yeh, kid." And Hagrid went to ruffle Harry's hair affectionately, but nearly wound up giving the young man a neck ache instead.
Hagrid poured Harry a generous mug of mead, which Harry sipped at. In contrast, Hagrid poured himself flagon after flagon as he and Harry sat and talked.
"So, I hear yeh've been ou' at Snape's ol' place," said Hagrid a bit too loudly.
"Yes, Hermione and I have been cleaning out the old flat at Spinner's End," Harry confirmed. "Let me tell you, it has been a nightmare. Hermione says the place had been ransacked, and probably more than once in the years it sat empty."
"Looters. They're a slimy lot, aye," Hagrid said.
"We found a very cryptic letter. It didn't even look like it had been opened by Snape." And Harry told Hagrid about the Black family crest in the wax seal and about the note inside. "That's all it said," lamented Harry. "We don't know anything else."
"Well, it could be from anyone, yeh know," said Hagrid, taking another drink of mead.
"So you see my problem then," Harry replied. "I have no idea who H.A.B is. But at least Hermione's doing some research for me about it. Right as we speak, as a matter of fact."
"Jus' because the letter had the Black family crest doesn't mean it has ter be from somebody in the Black family."
Harry looked at Hagrid oddly. "How do you mean?"
"Could ha' been someone borrowing the stamp," said Hagrid reasonably.
Just perfect, thought Harry. Right when Hermione and I thought we had this narrowed down...
"You're right," Harry said in concern.
"Lessee," Hagrid continued on, "who in the Black family? Regulus, Sirius–can't see him writing ter Snape, can yeh, Harry? Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, their folks, an' a few more."
None of those fit the "H.A.B." initials for which Harry and Hermione had been looking. Perhaps Hagrid was right and somebody else had signed the letter and 'borrowed' the wax stamp. Perhaps it was a clever nickname they had shortened into three letters.
"Yeh know that yer father an' Sirius were quite terrible to Snape during their Hogwarts years."
Harry smiled wanly and said, "Yes, I'm quite well aware of that."
"I wonder what James'd say if he knew you were cleaning ou' Snape's ol' flat."
"He'd probably turn in his grave," Harry said, smirking.
"Yeh," Hagrid sloshed down another flagon of mead, "those Marauders had quite the reputation. James an' Sirius developed a taste for older women who were 'dangerous'. I know fer a fact Sirius had several partners. James, too."
Harry's eyebrows shot straight up. His first inclination was to demand why Hagrid was speaking so ill of the dead, but it was simply the truth that Hagrid was saying. It was no secret that James and Sirius were cads in their youth. It was also no secret that Hagrid had a rather loose tongue which only became more loose the more alcohol he drank, and right now, he was on his sixth flagon of mead.
By then, Harry had heard all he'd wished to hear and suddenly had felt a very strong urge to leave.
He made up some lame excuse to leave Hagrid, same as always, but Hagrid never seemed to mind.
"Don' be a stranger! Visit more often."
It was the same thing he always said. But this time, Harry had an intuitive feeling he might be seeing more of Hogwarts or his old friends in the coming days.