Chapter 6: Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts
ΔOl
'Come on, Danny!' Sam called out as she swept past him a second time, 'How are you going to catch anyone if you can't even keep up?'
Danny heaved a gasping breath, sweat trickling uncomfortably down the nape of his neck as he made a slow, unsteady stomp around the Black Lake. Sam barely looked puffed.
'I don't need to run laps,' Danny wheezed out after her, 'Not when I can just use my powers—'
But Sam had already dashed out of earshot, pounding past the embankment where a giant squid lazed about in the shallows up toward the Quidditch pitch.
Slowing to a painful stop, he watched her disappear between the stands before flinging himself down onto the lake's slope, his lungs burning with each deep breath he took. The grounds were thankfully empty, the sun had barely risen and not even the teachers were awake yet. Across the field the giant carriage that housed the Beauxbaton's remained unmoving, their giant winged horses grazing nearby. On the lake, the Durmstrang ship remained anchored by the water's edge, the docking plank withdrawn as water lapped noiselessly against the hull, glistening like diamonds in the grey morning light. A cabin with a softly smoking chimney sat nestled in a patch of giant pumpkins that were nearly as tall as a Beauxbaton stallion.
Danny sunk onto the grassy embankment, letting his eyes fall shut as his breath evened out and he felt himself relax for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts. The soft wind whistled in his ears, singing softly to him, before curling away deep into the Forbidden Forest. It was a beautiful place, wedged into the craggy mountainous range that not even the most daring no-maj would attempt to scour. The sun was rising to beat softly against his chilled face, banishing the shadows that the forest cast out.
'Fang? Where yeh goin'?' Boomed a voice from across the yard.
There was a thunderous bark in reply, followed by the heavy padding of paws — Danny's eyes snapped open. A large, droopy-looking bloodhound was sprinting its way across the embankment, wagging his tail furiously at the sight of Danny.
'Whoa now! Hold on, boy!' Fang ignored him, giving another loud bark through slobbering jowls before he pounced.
'Oof!' Danny groaned at the feeling of cold mud seeping into his back, and a large wet tongue dragged itself across his face. 'Oh, gross.'
'Gerroff 'im, Fang! Come on now. Off, yeh great slobberin' mongrel!'
Danny tried to shove Fang's head away, earning himself a handful of saliva which he wiped on his sodden robes, nose scrunched in disgust. Fang gave a pitiful whine as he was dragged away, replaced with a ginormous hand. He looked up to discover the largest man he had ever seen — so large that it took him a moment to realise that he wasn't staring up at the face of an overtly friendly giant. A pair of keen black eyes stared down at him behind an impressive bushy beard.
'Yeh alrigh'? Don't look much pleasant down there.'
'Yeah,' Danny said dazed, taking the hand. His arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket as he became suddenly upright. 'I am. Who are you?'
'Name's Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Professor for Care of Magical Creatures 'ere at Hogwarts. I'm guessin' yeh must be one of the Caspers, eh?' the ginormous man guessed. Fang was sitting by his side panting up at Danny, slobber dripping from his jowls contently. Danny swiped at his cheek.
'Er, yeah. How'd you guess?' He grumbled.
'Was either that or a Beauxbaton. Ye don' look like much of a Durmstrang, with all their moodiness and the likes. Don' trust 'em, not one bit. No matter how much Dumbledore says they're alright…' Hagrid sent a sharp glare at the ship docked on the lake.
Danny coughed, making Hagrid jolt as if he'd forgotten he was there, 'An' who might you be?'
'Er, I'm Danny. Danny Fenton.'
Hagrid grinned down at him, 'Nice t' meet yeh, Danny. How're ye likin' Hogwarts?'
'It's wet.' He muttered, looking down at Fang who was now leaning heavily against his leg, tendrils of drool trailing down his thigh.
Hagrid shoved Fang out of the way, 'Sorry 'bout that. He's usually not so friendly with strangers. Right coward most o' the time.'
'It's alright. I don't mind animals.'
Hagrid's eyes lit up, 'A creature-lover, eh? Well, if yer interested I might 'ave a right treat fer yeh.' He tottered off toward the cabin he had spied earlier at a pace that forced Danny to have to jog after him, Fang faithfully following behind. 'Been workin' on these beauties since the start o' term with m' fourth years. They love 'em.'
Danny peered past the giant pumpkins to find a waist-high fence sheltered in the shadow of the cabin. There was a peculiar sound of clacking as he edged closer. Hagrid was beaming, waving a hand to urge him forward. A sense of foreboding crept its way down his spine but Danny ignored the urge to run, choosing to peer over the edge of the fence.
Inside were some of the most grotesque creatures he had ever seen. Large scorpion-like beasts of varying shades of gun-metal grey armour were slithering around the ground, hissing and clacking angrily with a multitude of legs jutting out in obscure angles. Some of them had large stingers on their back nearly the length of his forearm. The whole area smelled of rotting fish.
'Aren't they beautiful?' Hagrid said.
It took Danny a moment to realise that the man was completely serious before he half-heartedly nodded, focusing on breathing as little as possible. 'What are they?'
'Er, I don't really know yet. I've just been callin' 'em Blast-Ended Skrewts.'
'Blast-Ended Skrewts? Why do you call them—'
A sudden jet of flame burst out the end of one of the closer Skrewts, sending it catapulting over ten feet.
Danny felt suddenly very sorry for Hagrid's students.
'Yeh see,' Hagrid pointed at a particularly evil-looking Skrewt, 'the females 'ave got those suckers on their bellies, and the males 'ave them stingers. Not really sure why yet; suppose it might be a way to defend themselves – try an' keep any nasties away.'
Danny doubted that the Blast-Ended Skrewts had any natural predators to defend themselves against.
'They're really rather misunderstood creatures. I've had some of my students takin' care of them. Tryin' t' learn more about them— hang on!' Hagrid cut himself off, staring into the enclosure, 'How many do yeh count?'
'I dunno, a dozen? Why?'
'I think one's missin'.' Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder with a dinner plate hand, making Danny's knees buckle. 'Come on then, it couldn't 'ave gone far.'
'What?' Danny blanched, 'You want to catch it? What if it explodes?'
Hagrid gave a bark of laughter as if Danny had told a particularly funny joke, 'Don' worry; they're practically harmless.'
ΔOl
'What happened to you?' George Weasley bellowed out. A brilliant white beard was swaying about his waist, growing at a rather alarming rate; but he didn't seem to care, shoving his moustache out of the way to give a mischievous grin. Fred had stormed in after, looking a lot more sullen at the appearance of his own beard.
Danny hissed as Madame Pomfrey slathered on another thick layer of foul-smelling ointment on his arm, 'Ran into one of Professor Hagrid's pets.'
Madame Pomfrey tutted from where she was binding up the last of Danny's arm before turning to the burn marks scattered across his chest, 'Completely unprofessional,' she muttered under her breath, 'Letting children near those beasts. We've already had six students come in for healing – six! I've already had to replenish my stocks with burn salve. He's lucky it wasn't one of the younger students wandering about.'
George gave a laugh, 'You met Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts? I heard they were bad, but you look like you've gone toe-to-toe with a fire crab!'
'Yeah, whatever. Laugh it up. At least I don't look like my great-uncle Elmer,' Danny gestured towards their beards.
Fred rolled his eyes, slumping down in the seat next to Danny's cot, 'Pretty sure Dumbledore's just trying to impress his image onto us, sneaky git.'
'Don't call Dumbledore that when it was you trying to fool the age-line.' Called out a girl as she slipped into the Hospital Wing. Bright red hair framed her freckled face and Danny could easily see the family resemblance as she strode forward to stand at the end of his bed, staring Fred and George down with an irritated look, 'I warned you that ageing-potion wouldn't work.'
'An ageing potion, is it?' Madame Pomfrey had finished wrapping Danny's chest and pushed him gently to recline back onto the pillows before turning a stern look on the twins, 'Wait here while I collect the right potions. And don't touch anything.'
Fred and George both rolled their eyes as Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her office. 'Hey, Ginny,' the twins muttered half-heartedly.
'An age-line? You were serious about entering the tournament?' Danny asked George, who stole the other seat by his bed.
'Course!' George said proudly, 'Who wouldn't want to enter it? A thousand galleons and eternal glory? It'd be wicked.'
Fred looked confused, 'Hold on, you're not entering the tournament?'
'Oh, no. I mean… y'know. Competitions aren't really my thing. And my parents they're…'
He stuttered to a halt, not sure how the Weasley's would react to finding out that he didn't exactly have pure magical blood. He didn't want to start the school year like he had at Casper, but there wasn't any real way of avoiding it.
'They're what?' Fred asked.
'Er, they're inventors,' he bit out hesitantly, 'no-maj inventors… so, like, they wouldn't be able to watch – and they love magic, so they'd be really upset…'
'No-maj? What's that?' Ginny frowned.
'Oh, um… you guys call them muggles.'
The twins' moustaches had grown to cover their mouth, but Danny swore they grinned, 'Your parents are inventors? Muggle inventors?'
'Um, yeah?'
'That's wicked.' Fred and George burst out, 'Wait 'til we tell our dad! He'd love 'em!'
Danny felt a bit flustered. He'd never had this sort of reaction about his family from anyone. Not even Sam had been this excited to learn what his parents did.
Ginny answered Danny's silent question, 'Dad works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. He loves muggles. Never stops talking about them—'
There was a loud bang as the doors flew open and Sam forced herself into the room. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the room before landing on Danny in all his bandaged glory.
'Danny!' she cried, nearly shoving Fred from his seat as she dashed to his side, 'What happened?'
'Oh hey, Sam. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks.'
'You haven't got any eyebrows, mate.' Fred chortled.
Sam practically ignored him, eyes still concerned, 'When I heard you were hurt, I thought… I thought it was…'
The name floated between the two of them, unspoken. Sirius Black.
Danny hesitated. He hadn't shared his discussion with Dumbledore from last night. Instead, he gave a barking laugh, 'Don't worry, Sam. It's going to take more than an undercooked lobster to take me down.'
Sam frowned at him as Madame Pomfrey bustled her way back into the room, barely sparing her or Ginny a glance as she shoved a flask into both Fred and George's hands, 'Take it. The sooner you drink this the easier it will be to return you to your normal state.'
Fred and George gave matching grins as they clinked their potions, 'Bottoms up.'
With a large swig, the two downed the potion and Danny watched perturbed as large clumps of white hair started shedding from their chins. In less than a minute George was completely clean-shaven. Fred looked unimpressed with his results; fresh stubble had already sprouted from his face at an alarming rate.
'It appears I may have to keep you here a little longer, Mr Weasley.' Madame Pomfrey gave a sigh before turning her attention to Danny, checking his bandages, 'Hopefully, I can have you both healed up before breakfast is finished.' She gestured to George, Ginny and Sam, 'Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley, and… er… company, I suggest you make your way down to the Great Hall.'
'What? I'm not leaving here without Danny!' Sam cried.
'Then you can wait outside in the corridor. I won't be having you here distracting the other patients.'
Ginny scoffed, 'There's no one else here though.'
'Out!'
'You can't keep him here! This is oppression!' Sam yelled, stomping her heavy combat boots as Madam Pomfrey ushered her towards the door, followed by a confused George and Ginny, 'Danny has the right to choose whether he wants to stay! This is nothing more than a come-down of The Man!'
'The Man? What man?' Ginny asked.
Danny had the sneaking suspicion that Sam wasn't talking about Madam Pomfrey's attempts at healing his burns, rather another one of her tirades against the Ministry's ill-fated acquisition of Phantom.
'Sam, knock it off.' He hissed in warning.
She threw him a withering look but firmly kept her mouth shut. Without a second glance, she turned on her heel, waltzing through the doorway. Danny watched Ginny and George share a look before following. With a huff, Madam Pomfrey primly clicked the door shut.
'Now, I hope that's the last disturbance I get today. Ideally, Mr Weasley, your public humiliation was a keen enough incentive so that no other underaged students attempt to cross the age-line. And Mr Fenton, hopefully you will be an excellent example of the idiocies of approaching an unknown magical creature.'
'Glad we could help.' Danny muttered.
Madam Pomfrey ignored him, pulling a slip of paper from her pocket along with a mirror and a thick paste, which she slathered across his face, 'Now, leave this on for a few minutes. Once your eyebrows have returned you are free to go. Make sure to read this note, too. It just arrived for you. Mr Weasley, if you would follow me, we shall see what we can do about that beard of yours.'
Fred slunk after Madam Pomfrey over to the far side of the Wing, tripping over his beard more than once. Danny held up the mirror, feeling a tingling sensation as the salve quickly melted away to reveal short stubbly hairs in their place that grew at a rapid rate. In less than a minute, his eyebrows had returned to their normal state.
Satisfied, he lowered the mirror and reached for the piece of parchment, unfurling the tight coil. Instantly he recognised the headmaster's elegant script.
Meet me at my office. Quarter to four, sharp.
Danny crumbled up the note and, glancing at Madam Pomfrey whose efforts had turned to shearing Fred's face, slipped on his uniform blazer and slid directly through the floor. He floated down to a barren classroom a few floors below, dusting off his jacket and opened the door to slip into the sleepy crowds of Hogwarts students trundling their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.
'Danny!'
He looked over the heads of a group of third years at Sam who stood at the base of the Entrance Hall stairs. Further down he watched Paulina delicately drop her name into the Goblet of Fire before joining the rest of her friends, sneering at the other students as they swept by with a look of superiority. Sam met him halfway, eagerly waving a strip of parchment.
'What's this?' he asked.
'I figured it out!' Sam hissed under her breath, motioning to the cup, 'Shoving it to the man, you can beat them at their own game!' She unfurled the piece of parchment, on which she'd scribbled on in her messy handwriting.
Danny Fenton, Casper Magical Seminary.
'Sam!' he nearly yelled, catching the surprised looks of some nearby students, 'Are you crazy? I can't compete in the tournament!'
'Sure you can,' she said, 'This is your chance to prove to the Ministry that you aren't just some mindless creature.'
'It's a sure way to get me exposed — I'm not here on vacation. This isn't a trip to a five-star resort.'
She gave him an ugly look, 'I'm not an idiot, you know.'
'Yeah, well you're acting like one.'
Her expression darkened even further, 'Fine. Do what you want. But just so you know even Mikey gave his name this morning. You wouldn't want to be the only one of us who didn't enter, right?'
Danny glared at her hard. Sam stared back, dangling the paper in front of him temptingly. With a resigned sigh, he snatched up the parchment and stomped his way toward the cup. Just outside the age-line he paused, staring nervously at the blue-fired chalice that crackled in false warmth.
'What's the matter, Fenton?' came the cackling voice of Dash Baxter who was lumbering his hulking form over to where Danny stood, 'Too scared to try out, are you?'
Dash's loud booming voice was met with the cackling of Kwan and his friends who high-fived each other, shouting, 'Good one, Dash!'
Dash's chest puffed up at the praise and he sneered at Danny, egged on by his friends, 'Here,' he offered, 'Why don't I give you a little help.'
Dash smacked a meaty hand against Danny's back, nearly sending him tumbling straight into the cup. Danny quickly latched onto the pedestal and hauled himself upright, sending Dash a nasty look.
'Nice one, man!' came the raucous laughter of one of Dash's dim-witted friends. A few of the nearby Durmstrang and Hogwarts students sniggered from nearby and, embarrassed, Danny reluctantly thrust his name into the cup and hurried out of the hall.
'Danny!' he heard Sam call out, rushing after him. But he was too annoyed to talk to her, flitting into invisibility and out of sight.
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Danny's first official class at Hogwarts was Potions. The dungeons were cold and damp – a stark contrast between the bright, clinical laboratory that Felluca kept pristine at Casper. His old Potions professor was a short man with high expectations. As a result only three students, including Danny, had managed to make it to NEWT levels.
Standing in front of the Potions classroom was an eclectic mix of Hogwarts students talking in friendly tones to each other; Sarah Gibson and Rawletta Spires, the two other Casper students, stood at the centre of the group, happily chatting to a bunch of Ravenclaws.
The heavy door to the classroom creaked open and Danny saw a tall, sallow-faced man with a long nose glare down at the group through greasy black hair.
'Get in.' The man ordered.
One by one, the students wandered in, the cheerful conversations dissipating as the heavy weight of the Potions room bared down on them. The walls were lined with jars of unknown substances, rows of tables with large pewter cauldrons had been scattered systematically throughout the room, designed to inhibit conversation. Danny took a seat at one of the tables on the far side of the room, noting the empty stool next to him. The rest of the room quickly filled up, Gibson and Spires snagging a table at the front – they had always been Felluca's favourite and were obviously hoping for the same praise.
The door snapped shut behind the professor and he strode to the front of the room. 'It appears that we have a few extra students in this class,' the professor spat, turning to face the class, 'The Headmaster has decided to extend his hospitality to some outlying guests and as a result I am expected to accommodate them. However, I suspect that Casper's standards are far below the requirements of my own.' Gibson and Spires seemed to wilt under the professor's gaze.
'For those of you that don't know,' the man continued, weaving his way through the tables, staring at the stony-faced students, 'I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master here at Hogwarts. I expect no less than your complete attention. You are to listen to everything I say, do everything I do and hopefully by the end of this class I will not believe you to be a complete imbecile.'
Snape paused beside Danny's desk with a raised eyebrow. Danny stared coolly back – he had played this game before with Tetslaff on multiple occasions. Snape scoffed under his breath before turning to the empty seat beside him.
'Where's Diggory?' he drawled impatiently.
'Er,' stuttered one of the students accented in yellow, 'I believe he was talking to Professor Sprout, sir. About his Head Boy duties?'
'If Diggory is going to be missing even a second of this class he should ask permission from me, not Professor Sprout. Head duties should not interfere with class time.'
'Well, yeah, but—'
'Sorry I'm late!' called a voice. A gallant-looking boy strode through the door with tousled hair and pink cheeks. He was panting like he had sprinted the distance from the Great Hall to the dungeons, 'Professor Sprout just wanted to ask me—'
'Yes, I'm already well aware of your excuses, Diggory. Five points from Hufflepuff for tardiness. Now take a seat.'
Diggory frowned slightly before slinking his way across the classroom into the only available seat next to Danny. He nodded at him, which Danny returned in kind.
'Now,' Snape swept his black robes around him, striding to the front of the room beside a blackboard. Flipping the board on its hinges, Danny was faced with one of the most convoluted and difficult potions he had ever seen. The preparation alone would take nearly half the class.
'Draught of the Living Dead.' Snape announced, 'Only the most well-practised potioneers succeed in properly brewing it. If you have been admitted into my class then I expect nothing less than an Outstanding. Anyone below… then I would strongly suggest to your professors that your standards be reassessed.' He stared pointedly at the Caspers. Danny ignored the urge to roll his eyes.
'You will be working in pairs for this potion. The person seated next to you will be your partner until the December holidays. Begin.'
The students in the room scattered, hurrying to the pantry hidden in the recesses of the room. Diggory turned to Danny with his hand outstretched, 'Hey, so I guess we're partners then? Name's Cedric.'
'I'm Danny.' he replied, shaking his hand earnestly. Cedric looked satisfied at this, turning to look at the board.
'So how should we go about this? I'm pants at Potions – it's my worst class.'
Pants? 'You made it into NEWT-level. You can't be that bad.'
Cedric snorted, 'By sheer luck. If Snape had been handing out the results for my OWLs, I would have gotten a Troll.'
'What? No. He seems too sweet to ever fail anyone.' Danny muttered sardonically, watching Snape swoop around the room like an overgrown bat, snapping at a group of terrified students for taking too much sloth brain.
His partner laughed, standing up from his stool, 'Come on, let's go grab our stuff. I'll weigh the ingredients if you do the preparations?'
'Hardly seems fair.' Danny fired back, 'Why do I have to do all the work?'
Cedric shrugged, 'It's either that and I accidentally set another potion on fire. This way we both avoid failing.'
'You better be sharp with those scales – down to the grain.'
'Deal,' Cedric grinned, hopping from his seat. He disappeared into the storage pantry with the other students. Danny sighed, pulling out a sheet of parchment to copy down the ingredients. Snape seemed the type to wipe the board clean halfway through as a test.
Cedric returned to the table, arms laden with bottles. He quickly organised them, picking the ingredients they would need first and acutely measuring them with a swiftness that surprised Danny. Danny hefted a mortar and pestle off a supply bench and got to work in crushing the root of asphodel.
The hour swept by with minimal fuss. Cedric had long finished measuring the ingredient and was watching as Danny struggled to squeeze the juice out of the chopped Sopophorous beans. The room had fallen into complete silence as the students tentatively sifted wormwood into their cauldrons. Already Snape had hounded on more than one student for stirring their potion anti-clockwise.
'Give me two more Sopophorous beans.' Danny muttered.
'What?' Cedric blinked, turning to the list, 'But the potion only calls for twelve?'
'Yeah, well twelve isn't enough.'
'I'm not sure—'
'Is there a problem?' Snape sauntered his way over to glare down at the pair. Cedric gave a nervous glance at Danny but didn't say anything.
'Well?' Snape pressed.
'This recipe sucks,' Danny states stubbornly, 'There isn't enough juice in just twelve Sopophorous beans. Cutting them is a stupid method.'
The room seemed to hold their breath as Snape paused, 'What would you suggest then?'
'Shut up, Danny.' Cedric hissed in warning. Snape raised a hand in his direction before gesturing for Danny to go on.
'I dunno,' Danny leaned back in his seat, frustrated at Snape's demeaning attitude, 'Crushing them, maybe?'
Snape's lips disappeared into a thin white line. Danny felt Cedric shift his seat away, eager to separate himself from him.
'It appears that you are not as foolish as I first thought,' Snape looked like it pained him to admit it. 'Any good potioneer would recognise that cutting the Sopophorous beans is not the most efficient way to gather the juice,' Cedric looked shocked at Snape's appraisal, but he wasn't done.
'However,' the professor gave a thin smile, 'It is not your job to dictate how to prepare the Draught of the Living Dead. Your job is to follow directions, Mr… Fenton, was it?'
'Yes.'
Snape stared down at him in disdain, 'I don't have the authority to give you detention but be warned, one more smarmy slip out of you, Mr Fenton, and I will have you kicked out of this class. Is that clear?'
'…Yes, sir.'
'Good. Stick to the recipe.' Snape ordered, turning with a flick of his robes to harass another pair of students.
