Maybe I should transplant the green onions I planted here; they never get enough sun underground and have been wilting lately. Alan's mood brightened as he surveyed the vegetable patch, and his steps quickened until he reached the hut.
"Hagrid! Hagrid! Are you in?" Alan called out toward the house.
The heavy door creaked open.
Hagrid bent down and stepped outside. When he saw it was Alan, he greeted him with a wide, warm grin.
"Alan! I haven't seen you in ages. Come in, come in!" Hagrid enthusiastically ushered him inside, finally giving Alan a chance to see the full interior of the groundskeeper's home.
The hut consisted of a single, massive room. Hams, sausages, and pheasants hung from the rafters of the ceiling. A roaring fireplace dominated one wall, with a huge wooden table and mismatched chairs set before it. In one corner sat a large bed covered in a patchwork quilt, and the nearby wall was cluttered with heavy coats and tools like hammers and axes. Beside the only sofa sat a large crossbow and a suspiciously delicate pink umbrella.
"Hagrid, your place might be modest, but it has everything a man needs!" Alan was in rare form today, his spirits lifted by the fresh air and the sight of the garden.
"Haha, what's there to praise about this old shack? Tell me, what brings you all the way out here today?" Hagrid scratched his head, looking a bit shy, and hurried to pull out a chair for Alan.
"I've wanted to visit for a while. I've just been getting settled at Hogwarts, and there's so much to learn. Since it's a nice day, I thought I'd see how you were doing." Alan grinned as he hauled a large bag of seasonings onto the table and climbed onto one of the oversized chairs.
"You're always welcome, Alan. I didn't even get to properly congratulate you on starting school." Hagrid smiled, but as he took a closer look at Alan's robes, his eyes went wide. He let out a startled gasp. "Goodness, Alan! How did you... how did you end up in Slytherin? I didn't even realize."
"Yeah, that makes two of us. I was just as shocked as anyone when the Sorting Hat made the call." Whenever the subject came up, Alan couldn't help but think of that annoying, frayed piece of headwear.
"But I remember you saying you weren't from a wizarding family? Slytherin doesn't exactly make a habit of taking in Muggle-borns, do they?" Hagrid asked, his expression still one of disbelief.
"I've actually had my suspicions about that, Hagrid. I'm only telling you this because I trust you." Alan was genuinely fond of the simple, large-hearted man, so he decided to voice the theory he had been harboring.
"Mmm-hmm, go on." Hagrid nodded like a pestle pounding garlic, his eyes fixed on Alan.
"You know the houses are supposed to be chosen based on your personality, right? Well, I suspect that old hat was playing a game. When I put it on, it told me I was a fit for almost every house. But after we had a bit of an argument, it shouted Slytherin. It had to know my background. If you ask me, the thing was holding a grudge!"
To Alan, complaining about the sorting to classmates would have seemed like a sign of weakness, so he had always accepted the outcome with a stoic face. But Hagrid possessed a rare, childlike innocence that made it easy for Alan to vent a little.
"Oh my, could it really be like that? But they say the Sorting Hat never makes a mistake! Did you do something to make it particularly angry?" Hagrid asked as he poured Alan a massive cup of tea.
Does trying to take it apart to see how it works count? Alan mused silently.
"Since you've been in Slytherin, have those pure-blood families given you any grief? Those lots can be the worst. Most of the dark wizards and Death Eaters we hear about come out of that house. You've got to be careful." Hagrid looked at Alan with genuine concern.
Alan wasn't sure if Hagrid was worried about his safety or his soul, but he offered a reassuring smile.
"I've mostly kept to myself and stayed focused on my classes, so don't worry about me, Hagrid. Anyway, enough about that. Look at what I brought you." Alan shifted the conversation back to the contents of his bag.
He truly liked the vast, open space of the grounds; it was a refreshing change from the damp stone of the dungeons.
"I've got chili sauce, sesame paste, bay leaves, soy sauce, and sesame seeds. I brought the works. I'm already getting tired of the food in the Great Hall—it's the same thing every day. Since you have such a great vegetable patch outside, how about I whip us up something special?"
Hagrid remembered Alan's cooking well. The stir-fried dragon liver Alan had made at the Leaky Cauldron was the best thing he had ever tasted. It was the reason he held the boy in such high regard.
"That sounds brilliant! I've actually come into some interesting ingredients lately, so the timing is perfect." Hagrid stood up excitedly to show off his collection.
"Look here. These are Tebo wart pork chops and a massive leg of pork that Professor Kettleburn gave me a few days ago." Hagrid swung open a large cabinet, revealing the meat, which was being kept fresh by a freezing charm.
Alan stared in shock. The "large piece" of meat was enormous; the pork chops and leg combined were likely bigger than a full-grown pig from the Muggle world. Of course, since everything in Hagrid's house was scaled for a giant, the cabinet managed to hold it all.
"Is it safe to eat? Magical creature meat can be tricky," Alan asked, eyeing the massive ribs.
"Oh, it's fine. A bit chewier than your standard pig, but delicious. I was going to cure the leg into a ham, and I was going to give the chops to the Nifflers. Professor Kettleburn's Niffler just had a litter, and he's giving me one of the pups once it's weaned. I'll have a new member of the family soon."
You're planning to feed prime magical venison to a pup? Alan struggled to follow Hagrid's logic. The man was living in a state of casual abundance he didn't even seem to recognize.