It took them a fair bit of walking to get from the castle down to the edge of Hagrid's pumpkin patch. When you counted the lake and the forest, the grounds Hogwarts occupied were enormous, and the stretch of open field they had to cross was easily a couple of miles. By the time the group finally tramped across the grass, reached the squat wooden hut, and rapped their knuckles against the rough, oversized door, a good thirty minutes had slipped by.
"BARK! BARK!"
Hagrid's boarhound exploded into noisy alarm on the other side, claws scraping on the floor, before Hagrid's gruff voice cut through the noise. "Down, Fang, they're friends!" the half giant ordered. A moment later, the heavy door swung inward.
...
The air inside hit them at once. A wave of dry heat rolled out from the blazing fire in the stone hearth, carrying with it the smell of damp soil, pungent herbs, and a lingering animal musk. Everyone except Julian shifted uncomfortably in the stifling warmth, but they still stepped into the hut, closing the door behind them.
"Now that's a sight I don' see very often," Hagrid said, eyebrows climbing as he took them all in. "Slytherin an' Gryffindor sittin' together without any ruckus."
"That would be my fault," Julian admitted with a light laugh.
Hagrid chuckled and clapped a massive hand on Julian's shoulder in approval. The simple pat felt more like being smacked with a club, and Julian had to fight not to flinch at the sharp burst of pain. "Good on yeh, lad," Hagrid said warmly. "Never had much patience for that house rivalry rubbish meself. Nice ter know I'm not the only one."
...
Daphne, Tracy, and Ron took turns introducing themselves, then tried to find a comfortable way to sit on Hagrid's enormous, rough-hewn couch, their feet barely brushing the floor. Julian, on the other hand, drifted closer to the fire and settled on a spot near the hearth, earning a few puzzled looks. No one commented, though.
As the heat soaked into him, Julian's body relaxed almost of its own accord. The furnace-like warmth seeped into his bones, loosening muscles he hadn't even realized were tense, while his thoughts sharpened until every detail in the room seemed crystal clear. The changes to his body and soul had stemmed from a crafting method, so environments that mimicked a forge or workshop temperature felt like home to him.
This was only the first of several shifts happening inside him, subtle transformations still unfolding beneath the surface, but this one was already worth noting.
...
"Tea an' cakes?" Hagrid offered cheerfully as he filled a battered kettle with water and set it over the fire.
"I'll have some tea, but I think I'll pass on the cakes. Thanks, though," Julian replied with an easy smile.
The girls and Harry exchanged glances and decided to follow Julian's lead, asking only for tea. Ron, however, assumed that anything described as "cakes" had to be safe enough and quickly agreed to try some. He could not have been more mistaken.
What landed in his hand looked like a brown disk, roughly the size and shape of a hockey puck, seemingly made of bread. It was also at least twice as hard. Ron, determined and hungry, tried to bite into it with all his might. He found out the painful way that attacking one of Hagrid's creations was a terrible idea. A sharp crack rang out, and Ron yelped, hands flying to his mouth as he realized he had chipped a tooth.
...
Hagrid stared at him in confusion, then took the "cake" back and inspected it, turning it over and pressing at it with his fingers as if trying to see what had gone wrong. He frowned, clearly baffled, but could not find a single thing out of place.
Harry and the girls, watching Ron cradle his jaw in agony, silently thanked their instincts for following Julian's example.
Julian, for his part, kept his expression perfectly neutral and innocent, as though he had absolutely no prior knowledge that Hagrid's baked goods were better classified as blunt weapons than food. He simply raised his cup and took another sip of tea.
At least the tea itself was surprisingly pleasant. That much made sense. Hagrid grew the plants for it himself and, with Professor Sprout's help, had crossbred them over the years into the blend he was using now. Unlike the cakes, the result was actually suitable for human consumption.
...
"So, yeh've finally made it through yer first week o' classes. What d'yeh think of Hogwarts so far?" Hagrid asked after a while, lowering himself into a vast armchair that groaned under his weight. In his hands was what could only be described as a flagon of tea, leaves still swirling in the liquid as he drank straight from it.
"Not a big fan of Snape or Binns, but aside from that, I can't really complain," Julian answered honestly.
"Same as him, but add Quirrell to the list," Tracy grumbled. "The man stutters far too much."
"Aye, he didn't used ter be like that," Hagrid said with a sympathetic nod. "Left for a year fer some practical experience, he did, an' came back all jittery an' stammerin'. Real shame, that."
...
"As fer the other two, they've both got their own problems," Hagrid went on, "but if Dumbledore trusts 'em, they must be decent enough at what they do."
He made a very deliberate effort not to look in Harry's direction while he spoke.
Julian noticed. He knew Hagrid had been groundskeeper back when James Potter roamed these halls, and he knew exactly what sort of treatment Snape had received from James and his friends. Hagrid clearly did not want to be the one to tell Harry that the reason Snape despised him so much was tied to his father, the man everyone insisted "was a good person" and who now lay dead, but who had been a vicious bully during his school years.
It had been bad. The short, ugly glimpses shown in the books had been more than enough to make Julian loathe James Potter at that particular point in his life. Bullies like James and his group were different from the usual sort. They did not simply pick on whoever was convenient; they made a point of seeking Snape out, targeting him even when he was minding his own business.
He felt his irritation beginning to rise as the memories resurfaced.
He's dead, calm down, Julian scolded himself silently, forcing the anger back down. There was nothing he could change about the past.
"If everything goes according to plan, I should have my workshop set up by Monday," Julian said aloud, steering the conversation away from dangerous ground. "You can come by and have a look during our free periods if you want."