Something was wrong. It had been wrong for quite some time now.
Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Never-Reads had been haunting the library ever since the first Quidditch match. He had somehow become one of the library's most frequent visitors.
Not alone, either. Ms Granger who practically lived here already and Mr Weasley wandered in after him.
Normally that would not have concerned me in the slightest.
The library was, after all, exactly where one would expect to find students wishing to learn something. It would have been odd if nobody besides me and a few Ravenclaws ever visited.
Harry Potter, however, had developed a rather remarkable talent for avoiding books whenever reasonably possible. That fact alone made the situation interesting.
Before now I had simply lacked the time to care about what people around me did unless my spymaster told me to, or they made it my problem.
Between the Exchange, the card tricks and Tweak's increasingly sophisticated espionage network bring me all kinds of nuggets of wisdom to trade off. Not to mention my own studies, Harry Potter and his two inseparable companions had remained comfortably outside my priorities.
Now, however, the card system was finally completed. The twins were happily enslaving themselves to deadlines of their own making.
Tweak had taken to magical surveillance like a duck to water. Unfortunately, that also meant enduring her daily reminders that forcing a spymaster to wait until Christmas for a new intelligence system to activate was "an affront to the profession."
For the first time in weeks, I possessed something almost resembling spare time. Unfortunately, spare time is dangerous. It allows space for curiosity to grow.
I rested my quill against the edge of my notebook and watched from between the shelves as Potter, Weasley and Miss Granger marched past for what had to be the fifth time that afternoon.
Not browsing or studying but clearly searching for something specific.
There is a considerable difference between students looking for books glancing around at shelves.
Their eyes skimmed every shelf with increasing urgency. Ms.Granger occasionally stopped to consult a list she carried.
Potter looked increasingly frustrated and Weasley mostly just looked increasingly hungry,an oddly consistent trio.
I quietly closed the book I had been reading and watched the three disappear around another corner. Something had changed after the Quidditch match.
The question was not whether something had happened. The question was whether it was any of my business.
Definitely not but on the other hand I have some time in my hands..
History suggested it almost certainly was not my business. Unfortunately, history had also taught me that curiosity rarely cared about such petty things.
For the next several days I simply observed them. What kind of books they read and what topics they were interested in. Not because I intended to involve myself.
Quite the opposite, I was simply curious whether whatever had possessed Harry Potter, would eventually cure itself or would it spread.
Unfortunately, the symptoms seemed to only worsen,not by spreading thank goodness but the trio had developed a remarkably predictable routine.
Breakfast.
Classes.
Library.
Repeat.
Ms Granger did nearly all of the actual research.
That was hardly surprising to anyone who has ever met the girl.
Mr Weasley supplied commentary and inside perspective on Wizarding culture. From the bits and pieces I happened to hear it was mostly incorrect, funny but still incorrect.
Is the boy actually from a wizarding family?
Mr Potter wandered after the two of them looking increasingly frustrated every time they visited
I watched the trio whenever I took a break from my own studies.
I was not hidden at all, just sitting on a study table out of the way and kept writing my observations up and trying to figure out their goals without asking.
Weird game, I admit but it kept entertaining me for now and no harm was done to anyone
The library was large enough that even if the whole school were to visit simultaneously one could occupy the same room without actually occupying the same space.
Besides, Madam Pince possessed a remarkable gift for glaring at anyone foolish enough to speak above a whisper.
She made extended conversations difficult.
Eventually patterns began to emerge. They weren't searching randomly.
History. Famous witches and wizards. Ancient magical families and oddly enough, a surprising amount of material concerning magical dogs.
The frustrating part was that they rarely stayed focused for long. They would find something.
Read a page and begin to argue about it. Then rush off toward another shelf after apparently deciding they had been searching the wrong subject all along.
Watching them conduct research felt strangely similar to watching three flobberworms attempt to climb a tree.
Slowly and without a plan past the next inch of space.
And against all reasonable expectations. I learned precisely three useful things.
First, they were looking for one particular answer. Second, Ms Granger was mostly carrying the entire investigation upon her shoulders.
Third, Harry Potter's fame had done nothing whatsoever for his organizational abilities.
Unfortunately, I learned absolutely nothing about what they were actually looking for. Until Thursday.
I had selected a quiet corner near Magical Transportation and settled into an admittedly fascinating book discussing early Floo powder formulations, and what possessed people to light themselves fire in the first place.
Whoever first decided to throw enchanted ash into a fireplace possessed either admirable courage or catastrophic judgement. Perhaps both were needed for such endeavors.
I had just reached an especially interesting section concerning accidental international travel when voices drifted through the shelves.
"…I'm telling you, Snape's after it."
I paused my reading and looked around, not because I intended to listen. Rather because Professor Snape's name had a tendency to attract one's attention.
"…he tried getting past Fluffy."
Potter's voice came through as agitated and annoyed as he had seemed the past few days.
"…Hagrid told us nobody except Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"
"We don't even know who Nicolas Flamel is!" Mr Weasley hissed back.
"Which is exactly why we're looking!" Ms Granger whispered furiously.
Silence settled over after that outburst. I sighed and slowly lowered my book to the table top.
My thoughts came to a complete stop. Nicolas Flamel I knew that name. Not from gossip or from rumors but from Chocolate Frog cards.
Months of sorting, cataloguing, pricing and negotiating had forced me to read hundreds of them. Some repeatedly. Most peculiarly, I happened to have that particular card with me, right now. The coincidence was almost eerie. I pulled the card from my breast pocket to refresh my memory.
**Nicolas Flamel.**
Widely regarded as the greatest living alchemist, Nicolas Flamel (b. 1326) is most famous for the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, through which he and his wife, Perenelle, achieved functional immortality by imbibing the Elixir of Life. Other known uses of the stone are transmutation of base metals into pure gold.
Beyond alchemy, Flamel is recognized by magical scholars as a master of several magical disciplines such as: ritual magic, sympathetic enchantment, magical theory, and the construction of permanent magical works just to name a few.
Several modern branches of magical research trace their origins to manuscripts attributed to him, though Flamel himself has never confirmed their authenticity.
Despite his legendary reputation, Flamel has avoided public life for centuries now, preferring the solitary life of a scholar rather than the recognition all his accolades deserve.
Professor Albus Dumbledore, who himself is considered one of the greatest wizards of the modern age, has long maintained a close friendship and correspondence with the renowned alchemist
There is, I discovered, an awkward middle ground between eavesdropping and being unwillingly included in someone else's conversation.
When three people insist on discussing guarded monsters, professors and Old Alchemist only a few feet away inside an otherwise silent library, social etiquette becomes surprisingly ambiguous.
"…Snape wants whatever's under the trapdoor."
"But why would he—"
"I don't know!"
"…if we could just find out who Nicolas Flamel is…"
I closed my book with exaggerated care.
Yeah no point trying to read anymore.
Fluffy.
Three-headed dog.
Trapdoor.
Professor Snape.
Nicolas Flamel.
It was, objectively speaking, an exceptionally strange collection of nouns. Either Harry Potter had finally lost what little remained of his mind—Mr. Malfoy maintained the Dark Lord's curse had fried it when Potter was a baby—or there truly existed a connection between Nicolas Flamel, a three-headed dog named Fluffy and Professor Snape…
…or he had accidentally stumbled into something genuinely interesting. It left me with the one last question of Why...Why were three first-years investigating the Philosopher's Stone?
I considered my options. I could leave. It's an entirely sensible and safe option Or…
I could simply ask. Indirect methods had their place. This did not appear to be one of them. I sighed quietly once more.
Direct it was.
I stood up and returned my book back to its place then I picked up my bag and went around the shelf. Three heads snapped toward me.
Potter looked the least surprised of the trio,Weasley looked alarmed and guilty for some reason, and Granger looked rather…resigned.
"Oh." she said after a heartbeat."It's you."
I inclined my head politely.
"My deepest apologies," I said quietly. "I had absolutely no intention of overhearing your conversation."
Ron narrowed his eyes."You were listening?"
"I was reading."I gestured toward the shelf behind me."You three elected to discuss Professor Snape, a three-headed dog and a fellow surnamed Flamel inside the quietest room in Hogwarts."
I let them consider the matter for a moment.
"I would argue responsibility is… shared, if not outright yours"
Miss Granger closed her eyes briefly,"I told you," she muttered.
"You did," Potter admitted, more amused than sorry as he eyed my green Slytherin robes with interest.
"You always tell us," Ron muttered.
Hermione sighed like a mother of two toddlers, and I smiled pleasantly at them.
"Now that we've established no actual espionage has occurred, might I ask a question?"
Potter looked uncertain."…Depends."
"Entirely fair." I folded my hands behind my back. " Could you tell where you heard about this Flamel Fellow?"
Hermione recovered first.
"…That's all?"
"That was, in fact, my question." I confirmed pleasantly
She studied me for several seconds."You aren't going to ask why we're looking?"
"I assumed you would decline to answer." I admitted freely
"Thats right," Ron said immediately.
"There we are then." I shrugged and smiled at the three Gryffindors
The silence that followed was almost comical. Finally Hermione spoke again.
"I know who you are."
I looked at her with my best customer service smile,that Mr Malfoy had almost solely caused me to develop with his incredibly inane questions and requests.
"I suspected as much."
"The Hawthorn Exchange."She said in a weirdly accusing tone, and I simply nodded and moved to sit with them on the last free chair.
"The Mad Hatter." Ron said with a snap of his fingers and a grin oddly reminiscent of her older brothers I have gone into business with.
"Just an unfortunate nickname." I said dryly and put my hat on the table next to me,I didn't dare to keep it in my head in the library.
"It seems rather appropriate." He insisted
"I was hoping it might disappear." I added rather shortly
"I don't think it will." Ron chuckled.
I sighed " I was afraid of that."
Potter looked between us then turned towards Ms Granger "You two know each other?"
"Not personally, but we did meet on the train and I have heard of his reputation" Hermione corrected. Then she looked back at me.
"Nearly everyone in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff knows who you are. Well all the ones I know off"
I grimaced a little at that,"Yeah well I was just trying to survive, not like I did it intentionally " I defended myself
Hermione ignored that."They say you've answered questions even seventh-years couldn't."
"I suspect the stories improve with every retelling." I answered, starting to get really annoyed by the conversational sidetrack about my ongoing failings to stay in the background.
"They also say you refuse to answer the same question twice." She said breathlessly
"That one is true." I admitted" I feel its stupid to pay about something your friend knows and can tell you for free"
Ron looked genuinely interested now."So… if you're so clever…"
Hermione immediately elbowed him onto the side but only hit his arm.
"What?" He rubbed his arm."I'm just saying."
Potter suddenly looked thoughtful too.
"…Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?"
For perhaps three seconds I genuinely considered simply saying yes. Then my instinct as a merchant kicked in and I said " perhaps, what's it worth to you?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes."…Why?"
I smiled. " take a guess"
The trio looked at each other then Mr Potter asked " you mean money? I have only ten galleons or so, you can have it if you can tell us who Flamel is"
Mr Weasley gasped at the amount and even Ms Granger looked uncomfortable at the amount. I looked at the boy for a few seconds then sighed
"That's way, way above the price of such knowledge, are you sure about it? I'm asking so nobody claims I scam people out of their fortunes" I asked " keep in mind money isn't t the only currency, I take anything and everything I deem interesting or profitable to me all you need is to offer something and let me worry about the profits"
Mr Potter considered what I said for a moment then just shrugged" the amount doesn't mean much to me, I have tons in my vault so if you can provide the information now the money is yours once I get it from my trunk that is"
I stared at him for a few more seconds searching, then I simply nodded and reached into my robes, I withdrew a worn Chocolate Frog card from an inner pocket.
Past months of trading have taught me to always carry a few interesting ones on me. It was a strange chance that I would be carrying this with me today.
I laid the card gently on the table. Nicolas Flamel's personal card. Ms Granger picked it up almost reverently. Harry leaned over her shoulder to see the card.
Mr Weasley blinked. "...You've been just carrying that around?"
I raised a brow, "I have come to possess a rather extensive collection of Chocolate Frog cards," I answered. Although I agreed with him, this coincidence stretched my suspension of disbelief to the breaking point.
Ms Granger silently read the card and then read it again. Mr Potter looked as though he couldn't decide whether to laugh or groan from the weirdness of the situation.
Mr Weasley simply buried his face in his hands. "We've spent weeks looking for that," he muttered.
"Now then why three first-years trying to learn everything they can about the Philosopher's Stone." I asked,honestly still baffled by their motivations.
The three of them exchanged glances. Harry looked at Hermione and Hermione looked at Ron.
Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable at being included in whatever silent conversation had just taken place.
"…That's complicated," Mr Potter admitted carefully.
"I rather imagined it might be." I said and folded my arms. "Objects capable of granting immortality among other things are not generally topics of casual conversation."
Ms Granger's eyes narrowed. "You know what the Philosopher's Stone does."
"I read." I said simply.
"…Right." She said unconvinced
Another silence settled over us. Ms Granger broke it. "Why were you listening?"
"I heard three people discussing Professor Snape, a giant three-headed dog named Fluffy and Nicolas Flamel in the middle of the library." I shrugged. "At that point stopping would have required considerably more effort than continuing."
Mr Weasley opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
"…Fair." he muttered.
Mr Potter still looked uncertain."So… you're not going to tell anyone?"
"Tell them what exactly?" I asked politely
Mr Potter blinked.
"About… us."
I looked genuinely puzzled. "Three first-years trying to discover why Hogwarts apparently contains a legendary alchemical artifact?"
"…Yes." they seemed to be channeling the twins and said in unison.
"I fail to see why anyone would believe me." I chuckled at them.
That seemed to throw all three of them off balance. Ms Granger recovered first.
"Professor McGonagall would believe you." she said
"I rather suspect Professor McGonagall among other teachers already knows about it."
Mr Weasley snorted despite himself.
"…Yeah."
I looked between the three of them.
"So."
Mr Potter visibly braced himself.
"So? Are you planning to explain why this suddenly concerns you or not?"
The three exchanged another look. This one lasted considerably longer.
Finally Ms Granger spoke."We think someone is trying to steal it."
I remained silent so Ms Granger continued.
"We saw Professor Snape limping after the halloween feast, he was limping and his leg had a bite wound." She said
Mr Potter continued "And then we found the dog on the third floor's forbidden corridor,The three-headed dog who is apparently named Fluffy."
I nodded once."A memorable name."
Hermione continued, "The dog was guarding a trapdoor or Philosopher's stone as it turned out."
"And Professor Snape has been acting strangely ever since," Harry finished.
"We think he's trying to get whatever's underneath.Now we know what that thing is"
I considered everything they had told me. It was… a remarkably coherent chain of reasoning. Not flawless by any measure but coherent.
"I see."
Harry leaned forward slightly.
"…That's all?"
"What exactly were you expecting?" I asked
"I don't know."
"You've just informed me that a professor at Hogwarts may be attempting to steal one of the most valuable magical artifacts ever created." I said
"…Yes?"
"So I am currently deciding whether you're correct, mistaken, or have somehow wandered into something so absurd that reality itself deserves an apology."
Ron barked a laugh. Hermione, however, was watching me carefully.
"You don't think we're making it all up?"
"No."
Another silence.
Finally I inclined my head toward the Chocolate Frog card still resting on the table.
"You may keep that, technically you only bought the information but " I frowned. "I make a point of charging what information is worth, not what someone is willing to pay. So the card is yours"
I offered generously, fully aware that I made out like a bandit in this deal.
Harry looked surprised and picked it up once more "Really?"
I smiled" sure, now that the mystery is solved I must be going, Mister's Potter and Weasley, Miss Granger have a good day."
I turned to leave and after a few steps I paused.
"Oh…"
The three looked up again.
"If you truly believe a Hogwarts professor intends to steal the Philosopher's Stone…"
I glanced at Harry.
"…try very hard to make certain you're correct before accusing him."
Harry frowned.
"Why?"
"Because if you're right…"
I smiled and turned to leave.
"…you're all in considerably more danger than you seem to realize."
None of them called after me. When I glanced back from the end of the aisle, the three of them were no longer looking at me at all.
They were glancing at each other and the table between them…The Chocolate Frog card of the famous Alchemist was lying on it once more.
The library doors closed quietly behind me.
I slipped my hands into my robe sleeves, a habit I had shamelessly stolen from Ms. Belladonna, and began walking without any particular destination in mind.
My fingers brushed against the worn edge of the wand holster hidden beneath my sleeve. Simply knowing I could have my wand in hand in the blink of an eye and pointed in the direction of someone who proved hostile was… reassuring.
Especially since the two older students at the far end of the corridor behind me started following once more.
Flint's people probably, or perhaps even Flint himself.
Well likely not, Marcus Flint had far more important things to do, than trail a first-year he finds an eyesore through Hogwarts personally.
However, someone had been keeping an eye on me with remarkable consistency.
First there had only been one stalker but ever since the end of November, and Slytherin's loss against Gryffindor, there had been two.
I still had absolutely no idea what they hoped to accomplish.
Months of practice, combined with my spymaster's relentless tutoring, had left me singularly unimpressed by their efforts. Poor blokes couldn't even use magical concealment.
Not that it would have helped much against mage sight, but at least I would have respected the effort.
Instead they merely kept their distance and followed me from corridor to corridor like particularly surly puppies pretending not to belong to the same owner.
Normally I didn't bother losing them after all,I was curious about their motives beyond the obvious. People rarely committed this much time to surveillance without eventually doing something interesting.
So far, however…Nothing.
I had taken to feeding a trickle of mana into my eyes every few minutes, making certain nobody considerably more competent lurked beyond the two obvious stalkers.
So far the answer had always been no. This afternoon, however, I found myself in the unusual mood to think in peace.
At the next intersection I quietly pushed more mana into my ever present predatory stalking charm and the familiar sensation settled over me almost instantly.
Shadows seemed to deepen and blind spots of my pursuers announced themselves.
Mm that's new.
Lines of sight unfolded inside my mind as though someone had quietly drawn them over the reality itself.
The charm offered several routes. One immediately stood out.
Hat off and step behind the Tapestry on the left.
I had learned to trust the charm by now, though not blindly so I glanced back once.The pair had not yet reached the intersection.
Good enough.
I slipped behind the tapestry into a shallow alcove hidden behind the wall hanging. Immediately activated mage sight to see through it and pulled my wand ready just in case.
The world bloomed into shimmering currents of magic. Almost immediately a single bright point glowed from the tapestry in front of me.
Curiosity won.
I touched it with a wand and pulsed my mana into the tiny knot of magic without focusing to form a spell. A cascade of mana went through the tapestry and it immediately stiffened to resemble more drywall.
Its fabric looked the same to my eyes, while the opposite side flawlessly transformed into a section of ordinary Hogwarts wall. It looked weird for my mage sight too because I could see both sides in a way simultaneously. The Outside side was more illusion than substance but I bet it would feel as real as the other walls did.
Well, that's rather clever. Useful too.
Barely seconds later footsteps rounded the corner.
"…Are you sure he came this way?" one voice complained.
"I'm telling you I saw him," the other grumbled. "Hard not to. That ridiculous hat's visible from half the corridor and there was barely anyone in the halls besides us."
They stopped only a few yards away.
I remained perfectly still behind what now appeared, from their side at least, to be an entirely ordinary stretch of castle wall.
"This is the second time this week the kid managed to slip us! How in Merlin's beard is it possible for the mudblood first year to manage all he does!" Growled the first voice frustratedly.
"He might be halfblood or even pureblood you know.. there's been rumors.. he simply knows too much and plays the game far too well" the other said with a cautious tone.
"Thats just the fangirls gushing and making up stories, it's all fake. The mudblood grew up in an orphanage for Salazard's sake." He said more angrily than the topic merited.
I heard a dull thud, as he punched the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. It was a weird experience to watch the two through the tapestry with my mage sight, Their faces remained oddly indistinct. Mage sight revealed concentrations of magic rather than physical detail, and apparently neither of them devoted much magical activity to thinking.
Which, admittedly, explained quite a lot.
"I guess you're right but I would still stay cautious and to not antagonise him directly, did you hear about what happened to the first two who were ordered to rough him up a little?" asked the more cautious one.
I hear a scoff " he was not responsible for those two being petrified in the hallway half a night, it was probably one of Twins pranks, Flint himself said he was in the common room at the most of the evening doing his homework, and for Morgana's tits!he's just a mudblood!"
I could not hear the rest since the two gossips kept slowly moving along the hallway and shooting spells around, perhaps looking for a hidden place just like mine.
Rumors were dangerous things. They required no evidence, only repetition. Apparently mine had started reproducing without my participation,also did he say fangirls?
I shivered at the thought,
The word "fangirls" immediately reminded me of Carlos.
A Spanish boy who had arrived at Saint Helen's only months before the annual visit to the beach with Saint Mary's Orphanage for girls, he had been instantly swarmed.
I had never before witnessed an entire group of girls collectively lose their minds.
Carlos spent most of the outing hiding behind Matron Mary.
It hadn't helped much. They simply walked around her all babbling million words per second.
Luckily he also happened to be one of the few boys adopted in that year.
Afterward Matron calmly informed us that they had merely been "fangirling" over his exotic looks.
Every boy in the orphanage thereafter regarded fangirls much as one might regard an infectious tropical disease.
I stood in the darkness.
Well, not really darkness. Between mage sight and the fact that Hogwarts positively overflowed with magic, I could see perfectly well.
So I simply waited, lost in old memories while giving the two Slytherins ample time to wander farther away and, hopefully, resist the urge to double back.
A minute later footsteps echoed through the corridor once more.These, however, came from the direction of the library.
Three people, and the voices identified them long before they reached the intersection.
The Gryffindor trio.
"…So what do we do now?" Ron asked quietly. "The Mad Hatter's right. If we're right, we're in really deep water."
I waited until they passed the tapestry and then I pressed the glowing knot once more.
The stone dissolved back into fabric and I slipped into the corridor, settled my hat back onto my head and silently fell into step beside the youngest Weasley.
"You see, Harry," Ron continued, completely oblivious, "he might be mad as a hatter but he really knows his stuff."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"I quite agree," I said. "You really should listen to your friend, Mr. Potter."
Ron nodded enthusiastically.
"Exactly! That's what I've been saying! That weirdo may be completely barmy but—"
He stopped,Mid-step. His body froze so completely one might have mistaken him for a poorly carved statue.
Mr Potter and Ms Granger, who had been walking a few steps ahead, had turned around as I spoke and judging by their expressions, they had noticed me several seconds before Mr Weasley had.
Mr Weasley turned his head with the agonizing slowness of a condemned man approaching the gallows.
Our eyes met and I smiled pleasantly.
Then, purely out of sense for the theater, I glanced over my shoulder.
"Hm."
Ron instinctively looked as well.
"There doesn't appear to be another Mad Hatter behind me," I observed thoughtfully.
"So I assume you meant me."
Ron continued staring at me.
"Y-you…" he finally managed.
"me" I agreed pleasantly.
Mr Potter's lips twitched and Ms Granger closed her eyes for a brief moment and looked like she was counting to five.
"I was literally just talking about you," Mr Weasley protested weakly.
"So I gathered,one should be careful what they name, don't you know that?."
Mr Weasley paled and sputtered in disbelief "How did you get there?" Mr Potter asked, genuinely curious.
"I walked." I simply said.
Ron looked around wildly."No, you didn't!"
"I assure you I have been walking for quite some time now." I said with my most reasonable voice.
Hermione frowned thoughtfully,"…You weren't behind us."
"No." I admitted easily.
"…And you weren't in front of us." She continued
"Right again Miss Granger."
Ron slowly pointed an accusing finger at me and glanced between his friends and me.
"…See? He just… appears! I mentioned his moniker and puff there he is"
Harry looked between us and I tilted my head understandingly
"I generally make an effort to arrive before appearing."
Ms Granger snorted a laugh before quickly disguising it as a cough.
Ron looked vindicated."See! He even admits it!"
I raised my arms placatingly "I do not believe I admitted what you think I admitted."
Before Ron could formulate another objection, I glanced past them.
"Oh."
The three immediately turned to look.
"What?" Mr Potter asked.
"I thought I saw Mr. Flint." I explained, still staring down the hallway.
All three instinctively looked farther down the corridor. Naturally there wasn't anyone there.
By the time they turned back, I had already taken three silent steps, slipped behind the nearby tapestry and fed a thread of mana into the glowing knot.
The tapestry stiffened and took the appearance of a stone wall.
From the corridor it once more became nothing more than an ordinary stretch of castle wall.
"…"
"…"
"…"
Ron stared at the empty corridor.
"I…He did it again." came his voice with a bit of fear on it.
Mr Potter walked over and examined the perfectly ordinary wall just before the fake spot of wall I was hiding behind, again.
"Where did he go?" Ms Granger said and tapped the stone thoughtfully next to Mr Potter. "There has to be a secret passage." She added.
Ron slowly shook his head and he continued staring at the wall.
"I'm telling you…"
"…he's a very polite ghost."
Harry burst out laughing.
Even Hermione failed to suppress a smile.
Hidden behind the enchanted tapestry, I quietly covered my mouth with one hand.
One sounding like Mr Potter finally stopped laughing.
"…What did he mean by it?"
Mr Weasley continued staring at the perfectly ordinary wall.
"The naming thing? I think…" he said slowly, "…I think he was telling me off, and reminding me."
Ms Granger looked at him in surprise.
"About what?"
Mr Weasley rubbed the back of his neck."It's… an old thing." He said awkwardly
"What kind of old thing?" Mr Potter asked.
Mr Weasley frowned, trying to remember. "Mum told us when we were little, not to go around naming people, and definitely to not use their names without leave to do so."
Mr Potter blinked."People already have names."
"No, not like that." Ron shook his head. "I mean giving people names. Things like The Mad Hatter or The Bloody Baron. Mum always said you should be careful about the names you stick on people."
Harry frowned."And the other bit?"
"Using somebody's proper name." Mr Weasley shrugged. "Their given one. Mum always told us not to use a person's name without leave. That's why Hawthorn keeps calling us Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. We never gave him permission to use our first names. Of course you can use just the family name but its thought to be disrespectful without the Mr or Ms if your not friends"
Mr Weasley spoke with a surprisingly self assured voice. like it all was common sense. I could see them still looking around for a secret passage or a hiding place.
"Oh, I was wondering about that," said Mr Potter who was almost at the part of the wall that I was hiding behind tapping it with his knuckles and listening for echo.
Mr Weasley hesitated a bit "I can't remember all of it." he admitted and Ms Granger folded her arms further away, probably annoyed by the misplaced information.
"Try." she said with a clipped tone.
Mr Weasley thought for several seconds.
"I think… According to the old customs, names stay tied to the person they're given. Mum always said that. If somebody really knew what they were doing, they could use that tie somehow"
Mr Potter sounded very unconvinced. "What do you mean, connected? I haven't felt anything about all this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense." he said
"I dunno exactly," Ron admitted. "Just… connected somehow. But Harry, you don't really think of yourself as The Boy-Who-Lived, do you? Every time someone calls you that, you look like you'd rather be somewhere else."
Me Potter grimaced. "Fair point."
He searched for the words for a few seconds then went on.
"Mum said that a long time ago it was risky business giving people names behind their back and even riskier to use their given one.
"Why?" Mr Potter asked.
Mr Weasley shrugged helplessly.
"Something about being able to find you… curse you… or even steal your name."
"…Find you?" Ms Granger repeated.
"Curse you? Really that sounds far-fetched" Mr Potter said doubtfully.
Mr Weasley scratched his head.
"Dad tried explaining it once but I was about seven and mostly interested in setting Percy on fire with a toy dragon." He went on
"Also yes,cursing someone like that is possible. I know that for a fact. One of my great aunts has an active curse on her, one that forces her to spit fire every time she tries to say a certain name or even write it down" he finished seriously
Ms Granger sighed."So you don't actually know much. Most are just childhood stories and a great aunt who's possibly cursed or perhaps she simply enjoys overly spicy food."
"I know enough not to go around handing out names carelessly, and I would not count out something just because it's not easy to understand"
Mr Weasley said and looked back towards Ms Granger.
"Especially after somebody warns us about it."
Mr Potter stopped looking at the walls and turned towards his friends"…Do you think he meant it?"
Mr Weasley didn't answer immediately.
"…Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I think he did."
For a while, nobody said another word.
Their footsteps echoed through the corridor as the three walked on, each lost in thought.
By the time I finally reached one of the abandoned rooms I had quietly adopted as my refuge whenever I wished to think rather than practice magic, Hogwarts had once again returned to behaving like a castle instead of a stage for increasingly bizarre encounters.
It's rather terrifying how probabilities seem to lose all sense around Mr Potter and his friends. That simply cannot be normal.
I pondered as I finally found the door with a peculiar green coppery nob. It could never be found in the same place twice and only on the hallways close to the outer walls of the School.
The door looked like any other door but it was pretty famous to most of Hogwarts,they seemed to be under the impression it was just a wall pretending to be a door.
It's hard to say how they figured out it was part of the wall pretending to be the door but when Tweak showed it to me she explained, all it needed was just a proper passphrase to activate its properties. It would work certain times of the day for me alone since I said the password.
Password was a funny poem of sorts "One from the kitchens seeks a break and the one beneath the dungeons hisses the same. One in the highest of high towers grows weary of books and questions. One by the forge cannot make the blades behave today, so let all four find a room with a view."
Tweak told me that. Nobody knows why that's the password anymore. Most assume it's referring to the Founders. She personally thinks they simply wanted somewhere quiet and pretty to drink tea together hence why it can only be opened by tea times.
The concealed mechanism clicked obediently and, the moment my hand touched the stone, the door yielded inward without protest and I stepped inside and the view immediately justified, once again, why I kept returning.
One entire wall was nothing but glass.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from one end of the classroom to the other, framing Hogwarts' grounds like an enormous living painting. Beyond them the lawns disappeared beneath fresh snow while the Black Lake lay dark and frozen, broken only by lazy streams of snow flying in circles where the wind flew by on its surface.
Snowflakes drifted endlessly past the windows, turning the world beyond into a black and white painting.
The castle itself, seemed to vanish from the moment one looked outside
It felt less like sitting inside Hogwarts and more like occupying a forgotten tower suspended above the grounds.
Few places in the castle possessed a view this beautiful and fewer still were always empty.
Which was the more important requirement, and as such this room suited me perfectly.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a long moment, allowing the tension I had not realized I had been carrying to slowly leave my shoulders.
"Mmm much better." I muttered while removing my hat and placed it carefully upon a stand, identical to one I have in my room.
Then I drew my wand and turned to point at the door
"Obfirmo"
The hidden locking mechanism clicked obediently, resetting itself as the entrance concealed and firmly locked itself. No other visible signs of spell work were there which to me was much more preferable.
The spell flowed quietly through the wooden frame before sinking inside the surrounding stonework. Somewhere inside the walls dozens of tiny magical reinforcements settled into place, strengthening every point where wood met stone.
The door remained perfectly ordinary. It simply became remarkably unwilling to open for anyone else but me. I had found the charm while reading through an exceptionally dry volume on domestic warding.
Most people, I suspected, would have skipped directly to defensive magic. Personally, I preferred making problems incapable of reaching me in the first place. It saved everyone involved a great deal of unnecessary excitement.
A tiny smile crept across my face. One of the first spells I had intentionally sought to learn had been Alohomora. Well, the general unlocking spell was what I was looking for and it turned out to be Alohomora. It seemed obvious to me since any sensible wizard ought to know how to open a locked door.
Learning how to keep one closed afterwards had struck me as the natural continuation of the lesson.
Strangely enough, very few introductory books seemed to agree. Apparently blasting doors apart with increasingly enthusiastic curses was considered a more practical educational path.
I slid my wand to the wrist holster hidden beneath my sleeve with a practiced movement. The motion had become almost unconscious now,comforting too.
There was something reassuring about knowing that if someone genuinely dangerous ever appeared, I wouldn't spend precious seconds fumbling to get to my wand.
Not that I intended to duel anyone, If all went according to plan, the greatest advantage of carrying a wand this way was to never lose it as well as having it always in an easy to reach position.
Perhaps I should consider carrying a fake one in my pocket too like everyone else.
I pondered and crossed the room and settled into one of the armchairs put in front of the midsection of the window wall.
For perhaps half a minute I simply sat there, enjoying the rare luxury of uninterrupted thought.
Harry Potter...Professor Snape…Fluffy…Nicolas Flamel…The Philosopher's Stone…The convenient card in the pocket.
It was still an absurd collection of things coincidence or some great plan.
The more I examined it, the less certain I became whether the three Gryffindors had uncovered a genuine conspiracy or had simply managed to assemble five unrelated facts into one spectacular misunderstanding. Both possibilities seemed equally plausible.
I drummed my fingers lightly against the armrest. Either way, there was very little I intended to do about it,I may help if they need information but that's it.
If a Hogwarts professor had reached the point where they were plotting against one another over legendary magical artifacts, then three first-years—and one particularly curious Slytherin—were unlikely to improve matters by involving themselves.
Curiosity had already cost me one Chocolate Frog card. That was quite enough civic engagement for the week, thank you very much.
My gaze drifted toward the bookshelf where several volumes on ritual magic rested beside a growing collection concerning sympathetic enchantments Tweak brought here from the room of hidden things, apparently I wasn't ready to wander in there yet.
Then, almost against my will, another thought surfaced.
Names and Old customs...Finding and Being found…Divination.
Not the crystal balls, tea leaves and theatrical predictions Professor Trelawney teaches for third years and up.What I gather and also a few older Slytherins mentioned that it's all utterly pointless if you have no talent to prophesies.
No, I mean the older traditions are the ones anyone could learn. Finding what did not wish to be found or was simply lost. Not to even mention about concealing what wished to remain hidden.
Guiding chance and Influencing probability ever so slightly until coincidence ceased being entirely coincidental. Ms Bones proved that such magic exists.
It was... intriguing and, unlike predicting the future, it sounded almost practical.
I pulled my notebook out of my bag and made a small note in the margin of the next free page.
**Look for introductory material on divinatory theory.**
**Not prophecy.**
**Probability. Sympathetic finding. Concealment.**
I underlined the last word twice and capped the fountain pen I asked Tweak to bring me from London. I much preferred it to quills so usually when private I wrote all my homework and notes with it.
There had to be more to the discipline than dramatic pronouncements and unfortunate destinies.
If not...Well at least I would know that before wasting months studying it.
I paused and stared out of the window once more lost in thought.
What were the odds I wonder?
Not just finding out about Nicolas Flamel and the whole debacle from the Gryffindor trio.
No…The odds of me just happening to be carrying that particular card today.
It wasn't especially rare but certainly not common either. If memory serves, it was the third one I had acquired in my two months of trading around.
One had gone into my reference collection and remained carefully filed with the more valuable historical cards.
The second had been traded for a remarkably fine stylus for my rune work to a particularly enthusiastic Ravenclaw who was almost desperate for the card.
The third…Had simply happened to be in my pocket.
Today Of all days. Coincidence?Almost certainly. Yet the timing nagged at me.
Not because I believed every coincidence concealed hidden meaning or a will behind it.
Sometimes chance was simply chance and sometimes it merely appeared to be. The difficulty lay in distinguishing between the two.
Luck,Fortune,Chance and Probability.
The magical world seemed remarkably comfortable treating such things as though they possessed substance.
Lucky cauldrons and auspicious days. Fortunate stars, good and bad Omens. Finding spells and Concealment charms. and even Divination. All seemed to touch something more ephemeral than the regular fireballs and booms.
Until now I had dismissed most of the Divination due to my experiences in the Muggle world, what if I and most of the wizarding world just are just mixing two disciplines?.
Divination and Prophecy.
I think Prophecy is the more known one, predicting vague disasters several decades in advance.
None of it appealed to me. The future, if it could truly be known, seemed far too limiting to be comfortably studied, what would be the point of life if you already knew how it all happened. Hence prophetic magic interested me about as much as accounting.
But the art of Divining… Finding, hiding and influencing the likelihood of events. Those were entirely different matters.
If magic could create a sympathetic connection between a notebook and a card…Could it be encouraged to find specific objects? Or a person?
Could it make something more difficult to notice? Could it gently influence probability without meddling with destiny if such a concept existed?
That…Was suddenly a fascinating line of inquiry.
Perhaps I had dismissed an entire branch of magic because I had focused on its loudest practitioners rather than its practical applications.
I made a mental note to begin searching the library
Not for prophecies but for specific methodology. Surely somewhere beneath the mysticism there had to be actual magical theory?
If there wasn't…I supposed I could always build one.
The thought amused me enough that I found myself smiling.
It happened that I came out of my musings and saw someone outside in the snow.
Halfway across the grounds, bundled in his enormous moleskin overcoat despite the relatively mild snowfall, Hagrid trudged toward his hut carrying what appeared to be two sacks over one shoulder and an armful of firewood under the other.
Hagrid the keeper of keys and of grounds in Hogwarts. Avid lover of creatures that sensible people would generally classify as natural disasters.
Perhaps I should visit my friend whom I sometimes enjoy tea with and talk about all the different creatures inhabiting the forest.
I have a cunning plan to buy or trade rare materials from him in the future so I have been building a rapport with him that day in mind. It doesn't hurt that he is genuinely a nice person and much more than meets the eye.
Perhaps today is the day we talk about things.
The path down to Hagrid's hut had become considerably muddier since the last snowfall. Snow and mud possessed an unfortunate tendency to cooperate.
I picked my way around the worst of it before finally reaching the heavy oak door.
Three firm knocks echoed from the wood but for several seconds nothing happened.
Then the entire hut seemed to shake as heavy footsteps approached and the door swung open.
"Alexander!" Hagrid boomed, looking genuinely pleased to see me. "Was wonderin' when yeh'd come visit again."
"Rubeus I hope I'm not interrupting anything." I asked with a genuine smile
"Nah." Hagrid waved one enormous hand dismissively. "Come on in. Kettle's already on."
The familiar warmth washed over me as I stepped inside. The hut smelled faintly of woodsmoke, damp earth and fresh bread.
Fang raised his head from beside the fireplace, thumped his tail twice against the floorboards, decided I wasn't especially interesting and promptly went back to sleep.
An admirable philosophy.
Hagrid busied himself hanging his coat while I accepted the same chair as during my previous visit.
"You'll have tea."It was not phrased as a question"
"I would appreciate that very much." I smiled and pulled the mitts off and shoved them in my robes pockets.
"Got some rock cakes too." He mentioned casually with a grin half hidden by his beard.
I regarded the suspiciously dense objects occupying a tin on the table.
"…Perhaps just the tea." I affirmed.
Hagrid laughed. "Smart lad."
A few minutes later two oversized mugs rested between us while snow drifted lazily beyond the small window.
Conversation came surprisingly easily.
Mostly because Hagrid appeared perfectly content discussing absolutely anything.
The weather or the condition of the forest paths. Apparently there was an argument between two kneazles.
A family of puffskeins that had somehow found their way into one of the greenhouses.
He spoke with the easy enthusiasm of someone entirely comfortable in his own company.
I listened and asked questions and the afternoon slipped pleasantly by.
Eventually Hagrid leaned back with another enormous mug of tea.
"So."
His beard twitched with a smile.
"Didn't come all th' way down here jus' fer tea, did yeh?"
"No." I admitted
"Figured as much." For a moment I simply studied him. His enormous frame and the tangled beard. His constant smile and the slightly awkward mannerisms.
The appearance of a kind-hearted giant whose greatest concerns in life revolved around magical creatures and whether visitors had eaten enough.
Then I set my mug down.
"Rubeus." I started.
"Aye?"
"You can relax, you know."
He blinked.
"Relax?"
"There's no need to perform." I clarified
Silence filled the room and only the crackling fire remained.
Hagrid looked genuinely confused.
"Perform?"
I nodded and smiled calmly
"I imagine most people see exactly what you intend them to see."
His smile remained but it had become very fragile somehow.
"I don't quite know what yeh mean."
"I believe you do Rubeus, you see I am a Slytherin," I continued evenly. "We spend an unhealthy amount of time observing ourselves and each other."
Still nothing.
"So perhaps you'll forgive me for noticing something that doesn't quite fit."
Hagrid neither agreed nor disagreed.
"The simple, carefree groundskeeper you present to the world…"
I shook my head slightly.
"…would never have survived the life you've lived."
For the first time since I had entered the hut…
Hagrid stopped smiling, it was not dramatic nor angry. His smile simply…Faded away.
His eyes remained kind but they became considerably older.
"You know I was expelled." He said finally
"It is rather difficult not to." I said but did not elaborate further.
"And yet…" he said quietly."…yeh still think that?"
"I think that a thirteen-year-old who loses his wand, his education and most of his future has two choices."
I held up one finger. "He gives up."
Then a second finger."Or he adapts."
The fire cracked softly.
"I don't believe you gave up."
Neither of us spoke for a while and outside, snow continued falling.
Finally Hagrid let out a slow breath.
"Professor Dumbledore's got a habit o' sendin' me interestin' student, but I gotta admit he never talked about you."
I smiled faintly.
"I shall take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
For another long moment Hagrid simply regarded me.
Then, quite unexpectedly…
He chuckled. Not the loud, booming laugh from before.
A quieter and more genuine one.
"Yeh know…"He reached for the teapot once again to top our cups"…it's actually rather nice."
"What is?" I asked and stopped him at half a cup.
"Not havin' ter pretend to be less than I am"
He poured another cup of tea.
"This'll be a different sort o' conversation, then."
For a few moments neither of us spoke.
Hagrid slowly sipped his tea, studying me over the rim of the enormous mug.
"So…" he rumbled. "…what was it yeh actually wanted ter ask?"
I smiled. "I was wondering…"
I paused just long enough to watch his curiosity grow.
"…what sort of focus did you make for yourself?"
The mug stopped halfway to his mouth and his wide staring eyes spoke volumes about his surprise.
Then Hagrid lowered it onto the table with remarkable care.
"…Come again?"
"I said," I repeated calmly, "what sort of focus did you make?"
He continued to stare and with an evasive voice probed."I'm not sure where yeh got that idea."
"I just did a simple deduction" I said
"…Did yeh now?"
"I believe so."
Hagrid leaned back and smiled indulgently.
"Go on then."
I folded my hands.
"You were expelled and your wand was snapped."
"It was." He nodded with a slight wince and a glance toward the pink umbrella in the corner.
"You were forbidden from owning another wand."
"That's the law." He confirmed
"Owning another wand," I repeated carefully and he said nothing.
"The law says remarkably little about other magical foci." I said amused by the obvious loophole left by the lords who used to have another foci to fall back on.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly but he remained still otherwise.
"So naturally you would require another solution, you also remained here."
"Professor Dumbledore let me." He said simply
"You had unrestricted access to one of the finest magical libraries in Britain."
Hagrid's fingers stopped moving.
"You also had access to the Forbidden Forest."
Silence.
"And unlike most students…"
I gestured vaguely toward the enormous man.
"…you possessed both the strength and the patience to harvest materials few others could."
The fire crackled softly.
"So."
I spread my hands.
"I see two possibilities."
"The first…"
I nodded toward the pink umbrella resting beside the door.
"…is that an extraordinarily intelligent man spent decades relying entirely upon a broken wand hidden inside a brightly coloured umbrella and wallowing in self pity"
I tilted my head.
"I don't believe that."
Hagrid's expression remained perfectly unreadable.
"The second…"
I continued.
"…is that the umbrella serves exactly the purpose everyone assumes it does. People see the umbrella, see you attempt small bits of magic through a poor focus, and stop asking questions where the wand pieces are ."
I said and took a sip of my delicious tea.
"The wand inside explains any accidental magic people happen to notice." I continued
"It satisfies curiosity, and is just a bright colored distraction."
I smiled.
"And meanwhile…the real focus goes entirely unnoticed."
The hut became very still. Even Fang had lifted his head to check on us.
Finally Hagrid spoke.
"…Professor Dumbledore ever tell yeh any of this?"
"No. Can't say that I ever had the pleasure of talking to the man" I said and took a sip.
"Someone else then?"
"No."
"…Then how in Merlin's name…" he started
"You survived." I said simply.
He frowned."I beg yer pardon?"
"The simple, cheerful caretaker everyone sees is genuine."I nodded in acquiescence "But he isn't the whole man."
"It is simply the most reasonable conclusion."
For several long seconds Hagrid simply looked at me.
Then…He laughed in disbelief.
"…Yeh know…"
He ran one enormous hand through his messy beard.
"…Ah've spent nearly fifty years making sure people looked at that umbrella."
His eyes drifted toward it.
"An' here's an eleven-year-old who ignored it entirely."
I shrugged.
"It was too obvious, look around,everything else here is in earth tones of brown, white black."
Another long silence.
Finally Hagrid looked back at me.
"…Suppose Ah did make one." He started
"I believe you did." I said and sipped more tea
"What makes yeh think it'd be anything special?"
I smiled.
"Because if I had decades to make my own focus…"
I looked around the hut.
"…I certainly wouldn't make another wand."
Something changed in Hagrid's eyes.
Interest. Genuine interest.
"…Why not?"
"Wands are excellent general-purpose instruments." I started remembering the book " focus and foci of the ages" that I have been reading more as of late.
"They are also immediately recognizable, highly regulated and like I said all purpose tools" I said
" immediately suspicious in your particular circumstances and since you're not a pureblood wizard they would probably destroy it, even if you were to succeed in creating one."
I shook my head.
"If I intended to spend decades creating the finest focus I was capable of…I would make damn sure it's something nobody would think twice about."
The corner of Hagrid's mouth slowly rose.
"…Go on."
"I imagine it would be something you could carry every day. Something durable and deeply personal." I continued
"Something that would never invite questions."
I paused.
"…Perhaps it doesn't even look magical."
Hagrid chuckled again.
"Yer gettin' warmer."
I smiled.
"I suspected as much."
The enormous man looked down at his hands.
For the first time since entering the hut, I noticed it. Broad band of silver upon one of Hagrid's thick fingers.
Plain and unadorned. Entirely forgettable even if one were to actually look at it.
Hagrid caught the direction of my gaze.
Then, very slowly…
He smiled.
"Aye."
He tapped the ring once with one thick finger.
"…Made it meself."
Hagrid rested one enormous hand upon the plain silver ring. For several seconds he simply looked at it.
"…Professor Dumbledore saved me twice you know."
His voice had lost its usual booming quality and took more gentle cadence
"The first time…" Hagrid took a sip of his cooling tea and waved hand at the cup and I noticed it was steaming once more.
"…he stopped me from being kicked out of Hogwarts and got me a job as a Groundskeepers assistant, Old Ogg taught me much about Hogwarts ."
A small smile tugged at his beard.
"The second time he stopped me from losin' bein' a wizard."
I remained silent, and just listened and sipped my tea.
Hagrid chuckled softly.
"After Ah were expelled and Ah thought that was it."
"No wand.No school, me father just died a few summers back so no family to speak off and no future."
He shrugged his massive shoulders."I worked with Ogg all day and sometimes some of the evenings too,Fed the creatures,fixed fences. Anything and everything you see, tried me best not ter think too much about it."
His thumb slowly rubbed across the ring.
"Then one summer Professor Dumbledore came by." He smiled
"Didn't lecture me or pity me."
"He just asked one question." Hagrid's eyes lifted toward me.
"'Rubeus…your life as a wizard didn't begin with your wand."
He smiled faintly.
"'So why should it end with its destruction?'"
Silence settled over the hut as Hagrid drained the cup and poured some more for himself, he offered me too but I declined.
The third cup was enough.
"I spent near a week thinkin' about that. Couldn't get the words out o' my head."
He laughed quietly.
"Wouldn't leave me alone. So…Ah went ter the library. Started readin'.Not spells. Never cared much fer those. I wanted ter know why wands worked and what made a focus work. What made magic listen?"
His expression became almost nostalgic.
"Turns out…" He smiled at me excitedly
"…there've been hundreds o'magical foci over the centuries."
"Staves,Rings,Bracelets,Chains and Necklaces to mention a few" he said eyes far away in those days he discovered all the possibilities still open for him.
"Some better and some worse but they all had one thing in common. They belonged to the wizard. They weren't bought but made."
He looked down at his massive hands.
"So Ah tried."
He snorted.
"Failed and tried again. Failed better. I kept reading and kept making. I kept failing too. Often and with hilarious consequences
His grin widened.
"Got rather good at failin'."
I couldn't help smiling.
"Eventually Ah figured Ah ought ter stop rushin the process'. Spent years gatherin' materials. Wood from trees Ah'd looked after. Stone from the Forest and bits an' pieces creatures left behind naturally."
"Nothin' taken by killin' everything earned by effort of my own or finders rights."
His finger tapped the silver band.
"But before this…"
"…there was the first one. The ugly little thing."
He laughed aloud.
"It was just a carved wood circle,Oak as was my wand wood, I split it down the middle and filled the crack with me own blood."
"A handful o' runes Ah barely understood."
"Mostly stabilisin sort, just hopin it sticks'."
He shook his head.
"Honestly Ah didn't think it'd work."
His eyes became unexpectedly bright.
"But then Ah reached fer magic."His smile became almost childlike,"and it answered."
Silence.
"I don't think Ah've ever been happier." He whispered,"It wasn't much, could barely light a candle but it was mine."
He looked directly at me with a wide and proud smile.
"Nobody gave it ter me, nobody licensed or approved it either." He said "I made it."
His voice carried quiet pride.
"So Ah kept goin'. One ring became another. Every one a bit better than the last one. Every single one teachin' me somethin'."
"The umbrella…"
He nodded toward the pink thing by the door and made a face.
"…that was never really for me. It was for everyone else."
"They see it, know about me broken wand and they stop askin' questions."
His fingers closed gently around the silver ring.
"They've been lookin' at the wrong focus for nearly fifty years."
He chuckled.
"An' until today…nobody ever noticed."
Hagrid looked almost embarrassed then looked around his home then glanced at me with a bit of an impish expression.
"The thing is...Ah didn't stop with the first working one."
He chuckled sheepishly as he hesitantly explained.
"Once Ah knew it could be done...well....it became a bit of a hobby and a passion of mine to make them"
He scratched the back of his neck
"Got different tools now. One fer everyday magic and precision things" He clicked his nail to his ring.
"One's better with creatures around,another's fer work around the grounds and to understand what's happening with nature. One's mostly useful when Ah'm in the Forest and need to stay unnoticed."
He shrugged.
"They all do different jobs. See that dream catcher there?" He pointed above his bed. "Unicorn hair, oak and a few stones I found meself. Keeps dark creatures from gettin' too close while I sleep."
He grinned broadly.
"Ain't a charm cast on it neither. The thing itself does the work. It's a physical manifestation of a charm. Marvelous, isn't it?"
He gushed like a Ravenclaw for several minutes, and I found I understood every word. Magic was marvelous.
Eventually he laughed.
"Bit like tools, really. Ye can cut bread with an axe… but if there's a proper knife lyin' right there, why in Merlin's name would ye?"
I smiled despite myself. He had just described magical foci the way a blacksmith might describe hammers.
Different tools for different purposes. The principle was exactly the same.
The philosophy, however...was entirely Hagrid.
Hagrid's smile softened.
"Professor Dumbledore knows about most of 'em. Had ter show somebody."
His eyes drifted toward the window."Spent years makin' the things felt wrong keepin' it all ter meself."
He laughed quietly."Albus praises me far too much. Says Ah'm every inch the genius folk call him. Just that me kind o' genius isn't the academic sort."
Hagrid snorted. "Poppycock, Ah say. He always says things like that."
I remained silent but personally...I believed Professor Dumbledore was correct.