For a little while neither of us said a thing. The sound of a crackling fireplace filled the cabin, Fang kept snoring softly in front of it as snowflakes drifted lazily beyond the window covering the mud and the ground more thoroughly.
Hagrid seemed content simply turning the silver ring upon his finger with a small proud smile on his lips, and I found myself doing much the same with my teacup.
"Rubeus, I recently managed to acquire a rather interesting book titled Focus and Foci of the Ages." I started and broke the comfortable silence.
"It covered a few historical magical foci and the philosophies behind them. Have you ever read it? I found it remarkably informative… though I suspect the author held a personal grudge against wands."
Hagrid's beard twitched with a grin as he looked up from his ring and slid it back to his finger.
"Yeh mean Valecourt's book?Alexander please me friends call me Hagrid"
"Aye, read it years ago. Brilliant piece o' work. Learned more about magical foci from that one book than from half a shelf o' books in Hogwarts library."
He pointed one thick finger at me. "Mind yeh though… it's banned these days."
I smirked and lifted my hands in the air and he snorted.
"Which, if yeh ask me, tells yeh more about the Ministry than it does about the book."
He said and merely grinned back as I lowered my arms with a chuckle.
"Hang on a tick."
He stood, ambled over to the shelf and, instead of reaching for the biscuit tin resting there, casually pushed his entire hand straight through it.
My eyes widened.
His arm continued through the wall behind it as though both wood and stone had become little more than smoke. After rummaging around for a moment somewhere inside the castle itself, he withdrew a rather worn copy of Focus and Foci of the Ages.
He handed it to me with a satisfied smile.
"There yeh are."
I stared first at the book…
…then at the perfectly intact biscuit tin and at the equally intact wall behind it.
"…That," I said slowly, "was one of the coolest pieces of magic I have ever seen."
Hagrid's grin somehow broadened even more.
"You're own work I presume?" I asked before I could stop myself. "From what I've read about ring foci, their connection to a wizard is so personal that any new spellwork usually has to be developed by the caster themselves even if the idea and magical effect is widely known."
The words came tumbling out almost as quickly as Miss Granger answered questions in class. I glanced back toward the shelf.
The biscuit tin remained exactly where it had always been and the wall remained stubbornly solid.
"…Did I already say cool?" I murmured, almost to myself.
I shook my head,"I meant awesome." I finished and it looked like Hagrid blushed beneath his bushy beard.
"Now, now Alexander, stop with the praises and get to your point about the book" he said roughly but not unkindly.
I smiled at him and opened the book and started to search for what I was looking for.
PrefaceThere was a time when no serious wizard would have considered a wand sufficient for every purpose.
A wand is an admirable instrument. It is quick, elegant, responsive, and for most daily workings entirely adequate. It is also, unfortunately, so convenient that many have mistaken convenience for universality.
This error has done more damage to magical practice than any honest failure of skill.
For generations now, our world has drifted toward a most tiresome uniformity of method. A wizard is handed a wand, taught incantation and movement, and from that day onward encouraged—implicitly or otherwise—to solve every magical problem by means of the same narrow channel. The result has been precisely what any craftsman might predict: a decline not just in power, but in the quality of the magical works.
One does not insist upon a carving knife when a saw is required, nor a hammer where a needle would serve best. Yet modern magical instruction all but demands such foolishness of its students.
This volume was compiled in protest against that decline…
I read the opening lines of the preface aloud.
Hagrid laughed.
"Aye!" He pointed a thick finger at the page. "That's the very bit that hooked me an' all."
He settled back in his chair with a fond smile.
"Never read anythin' quite like Valecourt before that. Different sort o' wizard, he was."
Hagrid scratched absentmindedly at his beard.
"Ah remember old Obscuro tellin' me what a stir it caused when it first came out. Folk argued about that book fer years."
I looked up from the table of contents at Hagrid" Old who?" I asked puzzled
Hagrid's grin turned a little mysterious.
"Funny thing is…" he said, scratching thoughtfully at his beard, "Ah don't rightly know his name."
I looked up from the book.
"Nor what he looks like, come ter think on it. Matter o' fact… Ah don't reckon anybody does."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Well… anybody 'cept maybe Albus. Ah asked him once. He just smiled an' said it weren't his secret ter tell."
Hagrid shrugged.
"There's a little bookshop in Diagon Alley called Scribner's Exchange. Been there longer'n most folk can remember. An' as long as anybody remembers, there's always been an old man runnin' the place."
He paused.
"Only…" he scratched his beard again, "…nobody can ever seem ter remember what he looks like."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Not properly?or?"
"Not at all." Hagrid shook his head. "Soon as yeh stop lookin' at 'im, it all sort o'… slips away. Face, voice, height… gone. Like tryin' ter remember a dream after breakfast."
The image made me smile.
"Strangely enough," Hagrid went on, "most folk don't even notice there's anythin' odd about it. They buy their books, thank the old fellow an' go on with their day."
He pointed a finger at me.
"Only those with particularly stubborn minds ever stop an' think, 'Hang on… why can't Ah remember him?'"
He chuckled.
"Since nobody knows his real name…"
Hagrid spread his hands.
"…folk who do notice and realize there's something weird going on, just call him Old Obscuro."
As Hagrid explained it,I felt like something clicked in my mindspace.
Like a memory I haven't been able to recognize wasn't right,
Looking back, my own behavior around the old bookseller had been profoundly uncharacteristic. I had never questioned his name, or wondered why I couldn't clearly see his face. Never even found it odd.
I closed my eyes and deliberately replayed my two visits to Scribner's Exchange.
The memories came easily enough. Shelves full of dusty tomes of all shapes and sizes.The smell of old parchment and distant sound of pages rustling.
I tried to focus on the old man…My thoughts stumbled.
He was there, I knew he had been there. I could remember our conversations easily and without a flaw.
Yet every time I tried to focus on his face, something always seemed to block the view.
In one memory he stood with the afternoon sun behind him. In another, his features disappeared beneath the shadow of a hood that I wasn't entirely certain he had even been wearing.
It hadn't felt strange at the time and I had just accepted it without question.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny piece of understanding quietly settled into place.
So the mind could be guided without the victim ever noticing they had missed something.
I blinked, pulling myself back to Hagrid's cabin.
My thoughts had wandered far enough in my quest that it felt physically disorientating to suddenly get back to reality.
Hagrid was watching me over the rim of his teacup, a thoroughly amused grin hidden beneath his beard.
"Ah, now then…" he rumbled. "So me little scaly friend already knows a bit about mind magic, does he?"
There was no accusation in his voice. Only quiet amusement… and, unless I was mistaken, a hint of approval.
I nodded.
"Only the foundations," I admitted. "I wasn't about to start experimenting with large amounts of mana inside my own mind without first learning how to protect it."
Hagrid chuckled deeply.
"Sensibly done."
I couldn't help smiling in return.
It was strangely easy to forget that beneath the cheerful groundskeeper's exterior sat a wizard with decades of quiet study behind him. Every so often he would say something like that, and I would be reminded once again that Rubeus Hagrid was far more than the lumbering giant most people took him for.
Hagrid nodded thoughtfully.
"Didn't think Ah needed much o' that sort o' magic at first." He tapped a thick finger against his chest. "Half-giant, see. Mind's tougher'n most. Same goes fer the rest o' me."
He chuckled quietly.
"Or at least… that's what Ah thought."
His smile faded into something more reflective and a dark shadow seemed to pass through his face.
"Then Ah met a few things deep in the Forest that didn't much care how thick me skull was."
He shook his head.
"Learned that lesson the hard way."
He took another sip of tea before continuing.
"Been trainin' me mind ever since. Had ter ask Albus fer a bit o' help too. Most o' those magics were written fer humans, yeh see."
He lifted one enormous hand with a self-deprecating grin.
"An' much as Ah like 'em… Ah'm not exactly built like one."
Hagrid laughed softly.
"Had ter tweak a fair bit o' the theory before it'd fit me proper."
He explained in a voice that sounded like he had made peace with who he is long ago.
I nodded and went back to the book and tried to get to my point from the tangent that shook my mind quite literally. So the silence filled the cabin once more.
"Aha here we are" I said and showed him the page and a specific snippet I wanted to talk about and he read aloud
The finest rings were and remain, self-made. This is a very laborious endeavor but with such labor,comes unparalleled versatility, necessity for personification accompanied with discrete means of casting and performing magic.
The materials vary according to region, tradition, family instruction, and intended function, but the principle remains constant: the closer the making lies to the life of the bearer, the stronger the eventual resonance tends to be. Hair given freely, blood willingly used, personally gathered stones, proper resins or sympathetic binders, worked metal honestly acquired, and the patient shaping of the piece by the future owner's own hands—these things matter.
Not because magic is sentimental. Because the act of creation is an act of attunement and in its own way a ritual.
A ring made in full personal participation remembers its owner more deeply than one merely purchased. This fact has never been in dispute among serious practitioners.
What has been in dispute, often by people wishing to justify laziness, is whether that difference matters enough to warrant the effort.
It does though, like most truths, it remains inconvenient for the masses to acknowledge.
That said, one must be fair. Not every witch or wizard possessed the skill, means, time, or temperament required to fashion a proper ring from first material to final seal. Many therefore commissioned them, bartered for them, inherited them, or purchased something deemed "good enough."
And often, good enough was precisely that.
A commissioned ring made by a competent artificer from suitable materials, fitted to the intended bearer with proper sympathetic preparation, may serve admirably for decades. An inherited ring, if accepted into continuity of use and understanding, may answer better than many things made new. Even a purchased ring of only moderate intimacy may still outperform a wand in those disciplines that reward refinement over amplitude.
He looked up at me silently for few seconds then pointed at the page" so do you mean to make your own or order one made" He guessed
"Both actually, first I would like to ask if you would make me a ' good enough' ring foci for my use. I can elaborate when and where I would be using it but for plausible deniability I would suggest for you to not ask." I said with a straight face at his incredulous one.
Hagrid's eyebrows shot up. "Yeh mean ter break the law with somethin' Ah make?"
For one alarming heartbeat his expression grew almost thunderous. Then his face split into an enormous grin.
"Brilliant!"
He slapped one huge hand on the table hard enough to make the teacups jump.
"When d'we start?"
He chuckled to himself.
"Always thought that the no magic rule in summer was a load o' nonsense anyway."
he said with an empathetic nod and a very accurate guess of my main need for the ring.
Hagrid scratched thoughtfully at his beard.
"So then…" he said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What were yeh thinkin' o' payin' me?"
He glanced at the silver ring in his own hand.
"Proper focus ain't cheap ter make these days. Even a simple one'd cost… what?… ten Galleons or more if yeh were buyin' it. Except wands o course Old Ollivander is a right sort and the first wand is just 8 Galleons if memory serves."
I nodded
"I suspected as much. As for payment…" I shrugged lightly."Money is the obvious choice," I admitted, "and believe it or not, I can actually afford twenty Galleons without suffering too many heart palpitations."
Hagrid barked out a laugh.
I shook my head.
"It's also the least interesting one and paying a friend in coins always feels rather…impersonal."
I smiled and found that I actually thought of Hagrid as my friend, possibly my first one.
"I prefer trades where both parties leave feeling they've gained something unique."
I held up a finger.
"I do happen to know one spell I believe is old enough—and obscure enough—to interest you."
Then I raised a second.
"Or…"
I couldn't help smiling.
"…I could introduce you to someone who can answer almost any question about Hogwarts you might ever have."
Hagrid raised an eyebrow.
"Is there someone who knows Hogwarts better'n me?"
"Not necessarily better," I hedged. "Perhaps just different parts."
"She possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of the castle, an alarming talent for acquiring information and, if we're being completely honest…" I paused.
"…the finest collection of gossip I have ever encountered."
I explained referring to my slowly nearing mastery of the Bolt hole charm and my spy master Tweak respectfully.
"Any hints what sort o' spell we're talkin' about?" Hagrid asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
I nodded seriously.
"Normally I wouldn't even hint at it." I admitted. "But you're about to make what I consider an essential piece of equipment."
I smiled faintly.
"I've been trying to master this spell ever since I found it. My magic is only just reaching the point where I can cast it reliably."
I let that hang for a moment.
"If you don't already know it… I rather suspect it'll become your favourite spell whenever you travel."
I rushed in my pitch of the spell without revealing any of its details.
Hagrid's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"An' this contact o' yours?" he asked. "What's she like?"
I nodded approvingly. Asking questions before agreeing to a deal was always wise. Judging by his expression, however, I suspected the deal itself was already decided. Hagrid was simply curious now.
"This particular contact is, in my admittedly biased opinion, the finest source of Hogwarts intelligence currently in operation."
I smiled like a professional salesman.
"Books, forgotten passages, missing objects, peculiar traditions, staff gossip… if it concerns this castle, she'll either know the answer or know where to find it."
Then my smile turned a bit sinister.
"Want to know whether Professor Sinistra is secretly courting Professor Snape…"
I shrugged.
"…she almost certainly has an opinion on that as well, whether your ears are prepared for it or not."
I said with a smirk at his quickly paling face and furiously waving hands almost had me bursting into laughter.
"Merlin's beard, Alexander!" Hagrid blurted, looking genuinely horrified. "Don't go sayin' things like that out loud!"
He waved both enormous hands as though trying to physically push the mental image away.
"An' don't even hint at it neither! Me poor ears definitely ain't ready ter hear anythin' about Professors courtin' each other."
Still muttering to himself, he dug into an inner pocket and produced an enormous polka-dotted handkerchief, dabbing theatrically at his forehead.
"Needless ter say…" he grumbled, "…Ah'm not askin' her that."
I wisely refrained from pointing out that I had merely used it as an example.
Hagrid sat quietly for a while, staring into the fire,his expression gradually becoming thoughtful.
Then…A slow, unmistakably sneaky grin spread beneath his beard and I blinked. It was, rather alarmingly, a very Slytherin smile.
"Tell yeh what," he said at last. "Ah reckon Ah'll take the spell."
He pointed one thick finger at me.
"Yeh don't strike me as the sort ter share magic unless there's a mighty good reason fer it."
His grin widened.
"Contacts, on the other hand…"
He gave a knowing nod.
"…they're always negotiable."
Well, I'll be damned, he's not wrong. Seems like I played myself.
I chuckled. "Point to you, my friend. You're quite right on every count."
Hagrid beamed.
"Well then!" he said happily. "Ah'll choose the spell."
He pointed one thick finger at me.
"If Ah happen ter know it already…" He shrugged. "Well, that's nobody's fault but me bad luck's."
Then he smiled broadly.
"An' if Ah don't…"
He rubbed his hands together with obvious anticipation.
"…Ah've got meself a new favourite spell."
Well someone is a gambler at heart I see.
I smiled and nodded.
"Very well then. Also no refunds or take-backs." I held out my hand. "Let's shake on it and seal the bargain."
As I did, I fed a thread of mana into my palm.
During my research into magical contracts—originally undertaken to help Tom recover his gold—I had discovered three traditional ways for witches and wizards to bind an honest agreement.
A simple mana-infused handshake was by far the easiest.
Hagrid's enormous hand closed around mine with surprising gentleness.
For a brief instant our magic met and surprisingly his did not feel overwhelming.
It felt…Like standing at the foot of an ancient mountain while a cool wind swept through the surrounding forest in the middle of the hottest of summer sunlight.
Every account I had read claimed the sensation differed from person to person. Some described fires and storms, others rivers and sunlight. The experience was always deeply personal to both parties.
Our hands parted and Hagrid rubbed his enormous palms together, positively beaming.
"Right then!" he boomed cheerfully.
"Let's see whether Ah've struck gold…"
He grinned beneath his beard.
"…or picked up a particularly shiny rock."
smiled despite myself. Hagrid's enthusiasm was infectious.
"So," I said, "would you prefer an explanation first, or a demonstration?"
The fact I could finally offer the latter pleased me more than I cared to admit. For weeks the spell had drained me dry before it accomplished anything useful. Only recently had my magical reserves become large enough to sustain it long enough for the effect to stabilize.
Hagrid answered without a moment's hesitation.
"Show me first," he said eagerly. "Ah'll know soon enough whether Ah've seen it before."
I nodded and rose from my chair.
Drawing my wand, I pointed it toward a small knot-hole in one of the hut's wooden walls.
The movement had to be deliberate. A slow oval traced around the hole and a final precise tap that should not fully enter the hole.
"Refugium Venator."
As the incantation left my lips, I pictured the hidden space in perfect detail.
Roughly half the size of Hagrid's hut.
No larger, mainly because that was as big as I could make the space.
Magic poured from me in a steady stream.
The familiar drain arrived immediately, as unpleasant as ever, but this time it stopped before my knees gave way.
Progress I supposed.
The spell settled into place with no flash of light or dramatic sound. No actual visible indication that anything whatsoever had happened.
I returned to my chair and slumped down a bit from the almost bone deep exhaustion.
"Would you do me a favor?" I asked, pointing toward the knot-hole."See if you can detect any magic there."
Truthfully, this was as much an experiment as a demonstration.
The book had described the completed spell as exceptionally subtle and exceedingly difficult to detect.
Those were wonderfully descriptive words and it was time to discover what they actually meant in practice.
Hagrid rose with obvious curiosity. He crouched before the wall and began examining it with surprising professionalism.
One enormous hand hovered over the knot-hole.Then his fingers traced around it. He closed his eyes and tapped the wood with a thick knuckle.
Five full minutes passed.
Finally he stood, turning to me with a deeply suspicious expression.
"…Alexander."
"Yes?"
"There ain't nothin' there."He narrowed his eyes."Yeh havin' me on?"
Half amused and half genuinely confused.
I smiled.
My legs felt more steady beneath me. Excellent,perhaps…Just this once,a little showing off was in order.
Oh no," I said with a smile. "My suspicious friend, I meant what I said. This is going to become your very favourite spell."
I walked over to the knot-hole and gestured toward it.
"If you trust me… poke your finger through and simply relax."
Hagrid looked from me to the tiny hole in the timber and then back at me.
He shrugged. "Well… yeh haven't killed me yet."
One enormous finger cautiously entered the hole.
Instantly…He vanished.
I couldn't suppress a grin.
Looking through the opening, I found myself peering into a tiny hidden chamber. Hagrid stood in the middle of it, turning in a slow circle with an expression of complete bewilderment.
I followed suit and slipped through after him.
The transition lasted less than a heartbeat. One moment I was in the cabin and the next I stood beside Hagrid inside the hidden refuge.
Above us the knot-hole had become a circular opening no larger than a window, through which the hut appeared impossibly vast.
Fang continued snoring beside the fire, blissfully unaware that two wizards now occupied a space hidden inside one of his master's walls.
Hagrid slowly turned toward me,his eyes were wide in astonishment.
"…Alexander…"
He looked around once more before staring back at me.
"Did yeh…"
He pointed at the little opening overhead.
"…did yeh just make a stable hidden space…"
His gaze drifted toward the timber surrounding us.
"…inside a knot-hole?"
There was genuine disbelief in his voice.
I nodded.
"I did."
For several long moments Hagrid simply stood there. Then, to my surprise, he reached out and laid one massive hand against the wooden wall.
He closed his eyes. Feeling around with his hands and testing the magic. When he finally opened them again, he let out a long, slow whistle.
"Merlin…"
He shook his head.
"There's barely a trace left and I'm standing in it."
I smiled a little wider.
"The book wasn't exaggerating then."
"It wasn't," Hagrid muttered absently, still studying the walls around him.
He looked genuinely awestruck.
Hagrid slowly nodded, still staring at the knot-hole. Far above
"This is old magic." he murmured almost reverently. "An' Ah'd wager that, cast through a ring… it'd be nigh on impossible ter detect. Most if not all witches an' wizards could walk right past it fer the rest o' their lives an' never know it were there."
I nodded.
"I take your word for it. What I read, it originally was intended for hunters and wilderness scouts as a temporary hideout."
I gestured around the tiny refuge.
"A temporary shelter. Protection from weather, pursuit and the occasional creature with unpleasant intentions."
I rested a hand against one of the walls.
"I can currently sustain a refuge about half the size of your cabin. It remains stable for several hours before naturally collapsing."
"My magical reserves simply aren't large enough to make anything bigger."
Hagrid slowly nodded, still absorbing everything.
I gestured around "And this…" I continued, "…is only the basic form."
That finally got his full attention.
"Basic?" He asked curiously.
I nodded "If one permanently anchors the space with runes or another suitable enchantment…"
I pointed toward the entrance above us.
"…and properly conceals the opening…"
I smiled.
"…one can create a refuge that is exceedingly difficult to discover by anyone."
I looked up at the tiny entrance.
"Because, as it stands, the spell's greatest weakness is rather obvious."
Hagrid followed my gaze."…The doorway."
"Exactly and if someone knows where to look…" I started
"…they'll find it," Hagrid finished immediately.
"Precisely."
He looked around the little refuge one last time. Then he laughed because he had just realized the implications.
"Oh…"
Hagrid slowly turned toward me.
His eyes were wide with unmistakable delight.
He looked around the hidden refuge once more before letting out a long, slow whistle.
"Alexander…" he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Yeh made this place half the size o' me hut."
He swept one enormous arm around us.
"An' yer only eleven…"
He laughed warmly.
"Believe me, lad—that's more'n enough."
His gaze wandered over the walls as though expecting them to dissolve at any moment.
Then he looked back at me with the unmistakable expression of a craftsman who had just been shown a magnificent new tool.
"Ah understand now."
He smiled broadly beneath his beard.
"Yeh were right."
He tapped his own ring a few times, his eyes still wandering over the walls as though he expected them to vanish if he looked away.
"An' yeh were right." He pointed an accusing finger at me, though there wasn't a hint of annoyance behind it. "This is absolutely me new favourite spell."
Then a thought struck him.
His grin became almost childlike.
"Oh, just wait 'til Ah show Newt this on our next summer wanderin' through the Deep Wilds!"
He barked a laugh.
"He'll either hug me…"
His grin widened.
"…or spend a week askin' where Ah learned it."
judging by Hagrid's reaction…I had done rather well with this spell.
I did my level best to suppress the rather smug smile threatening to escape.
Eventually Hagrid looked back at me."…Right then." He glanced toward the tiny entrance high above us.
"So…"
He scratched thoughtfully at his beard.
"How d'we get back out?"
His eyes followed the opening again.
"Reckon we just climb back up to it?"
He sounded genuinely uncertain so I couldn't help but smirk.
"There's no trick to leaving," I said. "Simply decide to."
I fixed the thought firmly in my mind.
Leave.
The hidden refuge vanished around me and a heartbeat later I stood once more inside Hagrid's warm hut.
I casually returned to my chair just as Hagrid reappeared in the exact spot I had just vacated.
He blinked once then immediately turned back toward the knot-hole. For the next several minutes he subjected it to what I could only describe as a thorough inspection.
His ring glowed faintly as spell after spell flowed through it.
Sometimes he traced slow circles through the air with his enormous hands, as though physically feeling the currents of magic surrounding the entrance. Other times he simply stood motionless with his eyes closed, listening to something only he could hear.
Every attempt ended the same way. He did not find anything at all even if he now knew what he was looking for.
Eventually he let out a long whistle and turned back toward me, positively glowing with excitement.
"Oh…"
He shook his head in admiration.
"This one's a beauty, Alexander."
He tapped the side of his ring thoughtfully.
"Ah'll be spendin' weeks makin' it properly me own,"His grin widened."Got a dozen ideas already."
He chuckled.
"Couple o' improvements too, thanks ter yeh."
Then he looked at me with an expression that was almost guilty.
"Truth be told…"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"…Ah'm startin' ter feel a bit bad about this bargain."
A mischievous smile spread beneath his beard.
"Tell yeh what…"
He held up one thick finger.
"Can Ah tempt yeh with another ring somewhere down the line?"
The offer was clearly meant as a joke and that of course was entirely the wrong thing to say to a Slytherin.
"Well I do not need another one for myself, sinceI fully intend to make my own eventually. Since you offered, I might indeed need another ring made, perhaps for a friend one day, so I will take your offer." I smiled deviously.
Hagrid stared at me a bit dumbfounded and muttered " I should have said that" His shoulders slumped.
"…Ah really should've seen that comin'."
I inclined my head and for a heartbeat we simply looked at one another.
Then Hagrid burst into laughter and I joined him and gave him the pre-written word for word copy of the spell to study.
Hagrid let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Well…" he grumbled with a smile. "Next time Ah'll need a bit o' yer hair an' some blood ter get started."
He looked thoughtfully at me.
"What wood's yer wand made from, by the way?"
Without a word I reached into my bag, first came a small crystal vial containing a few drops of my blood. Then a small wooden box. Inside lay the neatly braided lock of hair Tweak had helped me prepare weeks ago.
Hagrid stared and sighed again then slowly looked back up at me.
"…Or…" he said, "…yeh already had 'em packed."
He shook his head, chuckling beneath his beard.
"Sneaky little snake."
"I prefer to be prepared," I replied with a perfectly innocent smile.
He snorted.
"So then… what wood?"
"Hawthorn wood, funny enough."
Hagrid blinked.
"…Yer jokin'."
I shook my head.
"No."
He scratched thoughtfully at his beard.
"Now that's a funny one. I've read a bit o' wandlore meself."
He pointed toward me and to the wand I was still holding in my hand.
"Hawthorn's supposed ter suit folk who've seen a bit more o' life. Usually not youngsters. Hawthorn's got a contrary sort o' nature. Full o' contradictions, they reckon. More'n most young witches an' wizards can handle,or that's what the books say. "
I gave a nod.
"I've come across the same description," I admitted."Strange thing is…"
I lifted the wand on my eye level to inspect it and roll it in my hands carefully.
"…it's never given me the slightest trouble."I looked thoughtfully at the polished wood."Perhaps we're simply well matched." I said with a shrug
"Perhaps," Hagrid agreed, he sounded no more certain than I was.
After another moment he nodded decisively.
"Right then."
He carefully tucked the vial and the little wooden box into one of his many pockets.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Give me till after Christmas, beginning o' January at the latest."
I smiled.
"That's perfectly acceptable. As long as I've got a couple of months before summer to learn how to use it properly and adapt a few of my most used spells on the ring usage."
Truthfully…One of the things I appreciated most about visiting Hagrid was that I rarely felt the need to weigh every sentence before speaking.
Around him, I was strangely at ease and could simply be honest.
Hagrid nodded approvingly.
"Aye."
He absentmindedly turned the silver ring on his finger. "It'll feel very different from wandwork."
He smiled fondly at the simple band.
"Most o' the work's up here." He tapped one thick finger gently against his temple.
His hand settled over his chest. "An' in here. Hardly any words, just yeh, yer magic…"
He glanced down at the ring with unmistakable pride.
"…an' a focus that's grows ter connect yeh to magic far more closely as yeh have ever felt"
I smiled "I'm looking forward to learning all about it" I said simply and glanced outside. The early evening was starting to darken and the snow was getting thicker.
Hagrid looked outside too and started" wheres the time gone? you better rush back before the curfew, don't wanna get in trouble now do you?" I said
As I stood to leave, Hagrid suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Hold on a tick." Then he disappeared behind the curtain beside his bed. For a moment I heard drawers opening and wooden boxes being shifted about.
Then he returned carrying a long, narrow case. Reminiscent of the box Ollivander stores his wands.He opened it with surprising care and inside rested a single feather. Almost black and longer than my forearm.
When the fire caught it, faint emerald highlights rippled through the barbs like sunlight beneath deep water.
I looked up questioningly.
Hagrid smiled.
"Newt an' me found this one a couple o' summers back."
His fingers gently brushed the feather.
"Deep in one o' our old wanderin' grounds."
He chuckled.
"Strangest thing either of us had seen in years."
"What is it?" I asked curious, eyes mesmerised by the shine of the black feather.
Hagrid's grin widened.
"We never did find a proper name fer it," Hagrid admitted. "Didn't match any creature either of us knew."
He smiled beneath his beard.
"Newt reckoned it were one o' two things."
He held up two thick fingers.
"Either it were an exceedingly rare beast nobody'd properly written about yet…"
"…or…"
His eyes drifted to the feather.
"…we'd just watched a brand-new magical species come into bein'."
Hagrid chuckled.
"Newt called it a magical ascension."
He shrugged.
"Said the raven hadn't just changed itself…"
"…it'd become somethin' entirely new."
"It started as a common raven," he continued. He leaned back, clearly remembering the day.
"Found it peckin' at what looked like one o' them old Letifolds."
My eyebrows rose.
"The cloak looking halfbeing? isn't it sort a immortal like Dementors"
"Aye."
Hagrid nodded.
"Thing weren't quite dead yet."
He scratched thoughtfully at his beard.
"Yeh see, Newt'd been wonderin' fer years whether Letifolds could die proper." Hagrid shook his head. "Nobody'd ever been able ter say fer certain. Ministry lists 'em as half-beings, but Newt always reckoned that were more admittin' they didn't know what ter make of 'em than any real answer."
He chuckled.
"Turns out…they can."
I remain silent.
"Would yeh believe it… the silly bird wandered right up ter the Letifold an' pecked it like it were lookin' fer grubs."
Hagrid's voice dropped slightly.
"An' instead o' blood…"
He made a slow swirling motion with one enormous hand.
"…instead o' blood, this dark wispy stuff started pourin' out. Looked like smoke… but it didn't move like smoke."
He smiled.
"Newt called it shadow essence."
His eyes drifted to the feather.
"The Letifold faded away over the next few minutes."
"But the raven…"
He picked up the feather with great care.
"…its feathers darkened."
"They started shinin' like this."
He tilted it toward the fire, where emerald light danced through the nearly black plumage.
"An' every now an' then…"
"…they'd give off little wisps o' that same shadow essence."
"So we started callin' it an Umbra Raven."
He handed me the feather.
"We never found another."
I accepted it reverently.
"It's magnificent."
Hagrid nodded.
"Thought yeh might appreciate somethin' nobody else has."
I turned the feather slowly between my fingers.
"How much?"
Hagrid looked genuinely scandalized.
"Alexander…"He snorted."Not everythin's fer sale."
"I insist." I tried but he waved the idea away with one massive hand.
"Nah."
Then he smiled.
"Call it…"
He scratched thoughtfully at his beard.
"…an investment."
I carefully returned the feather to its case before placing it inside my satchel.
"I shall endeavor to provide a satisfactory return."
"I reckon yeh will." He smiled.
The snow had deepened while we talked and afternoon had turned to early evening.
footprints were already beginning to disappear beneath a white blanket as I made my way back toward the castle, Hagrid's gift tucked safely inside my satchel.
The castle doors swung open before me, welcoming me back with familiar warmth and the comforting scent of old stone, burning wood and somewhere in the distance... cinnamon. A pair of older students left for the darkening grounds as I stood inhaling the magnificent scent of the school.
Christmas was approaching. One could almost feel it. Garlands had appeared where there had been none that morning. Evergreen branches wrapped themselves around banisters.
Tiny enchanted reindeer flew lazy circles through the entrance hall, pulling miniature sleighs behind them. Candles burned inside each one, their flames somehow untouched by the movement, while impossibly small bells jingled whenever they passed overhead.
The decorations were tasteful.
Unlike certain shopping centres back in London that appeared to believe the true spirit of Christmas involved assaulting innocent bystanders with enough flashing lights to guide aircraft.
My stomach chose that precise moment to remind me that tea, however excellent, was not actually a meal and I suddenly felt famished beyond belief. So I altered course toward the Great Hall for a hearty dinner.
After a sumptuous dinner my feet carried me toward the Slytherin common room almost automatically as I pondered about what would be my next order of business.
As I entered the common room I immediately spotted the noticeboard surrounded by several students.
The holiday list was attached to it and students needed to add their name to a list of returning to home or staying in Hogwarts for the holidays.
Most appeared to be discussing holiday plans rather than actually reading the lists.
"...Father says we're going to France..."
"...Mother already bought the peacock..."
"...Grandmother insists..."
The conversations blended pleasantly into background noise as I approached.
Two parchment sheets had been pinned neatly beneath a small notice.
**Students Returning Home**
and
**Students Remaining at Hogwarts**
Without much ceremony I picked up the quill floating beside the noticeboard and added my name beneath the second list.
**Alexander Hawthorn**
Done. One advantage of having no family whatsoever was that Christmas planning proved remarkably uncomplicated.
As I stepped back from the board an envelope caught my attention. It rested in a small wooden tray beneath the lists together with several others awaiting collection of students who had missed the owls for one reason or another.
Each bore a student's name. Mine happened to occupy the very top.
Curious, is it Tom again or perhaps Madam Malkin writing once more?
The handwriting upon the front looked immediately familiar and solved that mystery in a second.
The writing was elegant and precise. Professional even, so I broke the seal.
Mr Alexander Hawthorn
I hope this letter finds you well and that Hogwarts continues to treat you kindly.
I have recently received an updated set of your measurements from a rather suspicious little elf and, judging by them, you appear to be growing at the perfectly unreasonable rate expected of a healthy young wizard.
Your school robes will soon require alteration.
My charmwork should keep them presentable until spring, but my professional ethics simply will not allow one of my favourite customers to wander about in robes held to shape by stretching charms when they could instead fit properly.
Should you be remaining at Hogwarts during the Christmas holidays, as I suspect you will, would you kindly send your industrious little assistants to my establishment during the break?
She certainly knows the way well enough by now.
On a related matter, your little friend has commissioned several rather interesting outfits from me and has repeatedly attempted to pay far too generously for them. I have, of course, refused every Knut.
She has nevertheless insisted upon compensating me.
As a consequence, I have somehow become one of the best-informed seamstresses in Diagon Alley regarding both Hogwarts gossip and the private affairs of half the Alley.
I remain uncertain whether I should be grateful or deeply concerned but I shall happily resize and alter every garment at no charge, as previously agreed.
While the work is being completed, you may make use of the black travelling and working robes supplied with your original order. They lack school colours, naturally, but remain perfectly respectable attire within Hogwarts during the holidays.
And do remember to eat properly.
Growing boys have an unfortunate tendency to forget such matters, particularly clever ones who believe books constitute an acceptable substitute for luncheon.
With warm regards
Madam Malkin
Senior Seamstress
Diagon Alley, London
I smiled despite myself.
The woman possessed an alarming ability to sound halfway between a master seamstress and everyone's favourite aunt.
Apparently my spymaster had widened her circles in London once again. Here I had assumed Tweak made—or simply borrowed—most of her increasingly elaborate outfits herself.
Clearly I had underestimated her commitment to fashion.
Folding the letter neatly, I slipped it into my pocket and moved away from the noticeboard.
I would have to have a little chat with Tweak later.
Preferably before she somehow recruited half of Diagon Alley into her intelligence network without bothering to tell me.
I had barely taken three steps when I noticed Mr Malfoy approaching.
Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle followed on either side of him with the dutiful consistency of particularly large bookends.
All three looked rather put out.
What now?
I slipped my hands into my sleeves and waited.
There was little point pretending I hadn't noticed them. Mr Malfoy was walking directly toward me with the determined expression of someone who had spent considerable time preparing to be unpleasant.
He stopped several feet away.
"Hawthorn," he said, almost spitting the name. "You're a difficult man to find."
"Mr Malfoy."
I glanced briefly at Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle.
Both were doing their very best to glare at me.
I suspected they believed the expressions were threatening. Unfortunately, both mostly looked constipated.
"Is that so?" I asked mildly. "Perhaps you should have tried the library. I spend most of my days there."
I paused.
"You know. The room with all the books."
For some entirely mysterious reason, my polite smile only seemed to irritate Mr Malfoy further.
"I challenge you to a wizard's duel!"
"…"
I considered him for several seconds.
Mr Malfoy did not strike me as someone particularly inclined to dirty his own hands when somebody else's were readily available.
So why now?
"What?" I asked, allowing my genuine confusion to show.
He blinked.
Apparently that had not been the response he expected.
"A duel," he repeated.
"I gathered as much."
I paused.
"Is this going to be like the one with Mr Potter?"
His expression froze.
"The one you didn't actually attend?" I clarified. "Because if so, I could simply go to bed and tomorrow we can both agree the battle was devastating and you definitely won."
Silence,then someone sniggered and soon another person followed and after that laughter spread through the common room.
Mr Malfoy's pale face began turning an interesting blotchy shade of red.
Mr. Malfoy's jaw tightened. "You've made a mockery of me and embarrassed Slytherin!"
"I have?" I asked, puzzled.
"You've been making a fool of me for months!" He accused, "And you've embarrassed me and the Malfoy family name!"
I frowned thoughtfully.
"I don't believe I've done either of those things."
I paused.
"The latter, in particular, appears to be largely your own area of expertise."
For a brief moment Mr. Malfoy looked as though he wished to hex me on the spot.
Instead he drew himself up.
"So?" He spat
"So?" I repeated calmly as the room seemed to be more filled with students than before.
"Do you accept?"
I sighed quietly. Truthfully, I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to spend my morning throwing spells at another eleven-year-old.
On the other hand...refusing would not end the matter. It would merely postpone it.
"I'll accept." I said.
A satisfied smile appeared immediately on Mr Malfoy's face and he threw a glance in the corner where I noted Mr Flint and his friend congregated.
"...under one condition." I added before the boy started to fall on his back from sheer pride and how his nose was rising up in the air.
His smile faltered slightly "What condition?"
"If we're going to waste an evening on this, we may as well make it worthwhile, I see no point in this without some insentive"
He folded his arms. "I'm listening."
"The winner may ask the loser one true question."
He frowned.
"...One question?"
"The loser must answer honestly to any one question the winner asks."
Mr. Malfoy stared, as if waiting for more.
"That's all?"
"Yes."
"You don't want money?" He tried
"No, easily made and easily wasted as you should know" I said flippantly
"A public admission of defeat?" He tried once more.
"I rather expect the duel itself would settle that."
Several older Slytherins chuckled and Mr. Malfoy glanced around before looking back at me.
"...Fine."
I inclined my head.
"Excellent shall we proceed to the Duelling platform then?"
Adrian Pucey stood beside the platform, hands folded behind his back. His expression suggested mild curiosity more than concern.
Mr. Malfoy climbed onto the platform first.
His robes were immaculate and his posture practiced but not really suited for movement.
I climbed up opposite him, my hands still in my sleeves, my hat holding the glaring stage lights out of my eyes, something Mr Malfoy seemed to be rather envious of.
Adrian Pucey smiled pleasantly and waved his wand to dim the lights on the platform a bit.
Adrian Pucey stood beside the platform with his hands folded neatly behind his back. His expression suggested mild curiosity rather than concern.
"Gentlemen," he began pleasantly. "This duel is recognised and supervised under Hogwarts duelling regulations."
He looked between us.
"No dangerous magic. No attacks after surrender or incapacitation. My intervention ends the duel immediately."
His smile sharpened slightly.
"If either of you decides to test how seriously I take that last rule, I shall be delighted to demonstrate."
Mr Malfoy nodded.
I did the same.
"Wonderful, remember no dangerous magic."
Another nod.
"The duel ends immediately upon disarming, incapacitation or my intervention."
Again we nodded.
"Very well."
He flicked the wand again towards the platform and it produced a humm and I could feel the wall of magic that encapsulated me and Mr Malfoy on the platform inside itself.
oh good so no need to fear hitting some innocent bystander.
I thought then Mr Pucey's voice came once more
"Bows to each other, please."
We bowed and straightened.
"Wands."
Mine was already resting comfortably at my hand beneath my sleeve. I just separated my hands and let them hang on my sides, the right one holding the wand.
Draco produced his with considerably more flourish, although it looked a bit silly since he still just pulled it from his pocket and twirled it around his fingers.
Mr Pucey raised one hand and suddenly let it fall.
"Begin."
Mr. Malfoy wasted no time.
"Flipendo!"
The spell shot toward me at what seemed like very slow speed so I simply stepped to my left.
It passed harmlessly by my shoulder and struck the magical barrier behind me.
A murmur rippled through the audience and another spell followed almost immediately.
I took one step back to the right and this one missed as well.
Then another. He was shouting his spells but the speed was still pretty impressive.
This time I dipped my shoulder slightly, and the spell flew past. I tried to move as little as possible, in order to embarrass him enough so this won't happen every week.
Mr. Malfoy frowned.
"Fight me, don't just dance!"
Another spell and another simple dodge by twisting my shoulder.
My predatory stalking charm quietly whispered where not to stand before Mr Malfoy's wand had even fully settled.
Curious.
A month spent avoiding increasingly persistent stalkers had apparently produced an unexpected side effect.
People telegraphed spells through their posture.
The shoulders turned,the wrist aligned and the eyes found their target.
By the time the wand finished moving, the charm had already identified several places I very much should not be.
Dodging first-year spellwork was proving remarkably similar to stepping out of someone's line of sight.
"Stand still!"
I blinked.
"...Why?"
Laughter erupted somewhere among the audience. Several Slytherins looked as though they were struggling not to fall from their seats.
Mr. Malfoy's face reddened. "You coward!"
"I confess I fail to see the courage in allowing oneself to be hit." I answered, and twirled my wand instead of attacking, there was no reason to show what spells I knew if it wasn't necessary.
Another spell from Mr Malfoy and another miss as I twisted my hips and upper body out of the way.
Mr Pucey hadn't said a single word.
He merely watched us expressionlessly, even a bit bored.
Then Mr Malfoy made a mistake. He tried something more complicated.
His wand rose higher and his stance widened as he prepared a movement requiring considerably more commitment than the previous jinxes.
Frustration had begun replacing discipline.
Exactly the opening I had been waiting for
A tiny flick of my wand, and muttered.
"Offendo"
The tripping hex shot low across the platform and hit him to the shin.
He jerked sideways and his balance disappeared. Mr. Malfoy pitched forward with an undignified yelp.
His wand slipped from his fingers and clattered across the wooden platform.
Silence,complete silence.
I lowered my wand but kept my eye on Mr Malfoy. The duel had lasted perhaps twenty seconds max thirty.
I crossed the distance between us sliding my wand to its holster before I, picked up his wand and offered him my hand.
"Are you hurt?"
Mr. Malfoy stared at it,then at me.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity...He accepted.
I pulled him smoothly back onto his feet.
Then I looked at his wand in my hand,I could feel only a slight connection with it. I turned it once in my fingers before offering it back.
Handle first.
""Thank you for the duel."
For several heartbeats he simply looked at me.
Almost… confused.
Slowly, he accepted the wand.
I inclined my head.
"I shall think about my question."
Mr Malfoy's expression changed immediately.
Ah.
He had forgotten.
"You said one question," he muttered.
"I did."
"You have to ask it now."
I tilted my head.
"We never agreed to that."
Silence.
Mr Malfoy stared at me and I smiled pleasantly bacl.
"Don't worry, Mr Malfoy. I'm certain I'll think of something eventually."
His face went slightly pale.
Excellent, maybe remember that next time.
Perhaps now he would stop arranging for people to follow me through the castle. Him and Flint both.
Or, at the very least, lose some sleep wondering what I intended to ask.
I inclined my head politely before turning toward Mr Pucey.
"I believe our business is concluded, Prefect Pucey."
Mr Pucey looked from one of us to the other.
Then smiled.
"Indeed."
Pucey turned toward the gathered students.
"I suggest all of you remember what you just witnessed."
The duelling chamber quieted.
"Mr Malfoy attacked repeatedly."
His eyes moved briefly toward Draco.
"Mr Hawthorn cast one spell."
A pause.
"The purpose of a duel is not to empty your repertoire at the person standing opposite you."
Several older students chuckled.
"It is to solve the problem before you."
His gaze settled briefly upon me.
"Preferably with the least amount of magic necessary."
Pucey folded his hands behind his back.
"Efficiency, ladies and gentlemen, is a habit worth cultivating."
The duel had not been spectacular.
Quite the opposite,it had been simple.
Somehow, judging by the silence around the platform, that had made it considerably more impressive.