The start of the 1993–1994 school year was terrible.
It had only been one day, and already so many unpleasant things had happened.
The fifth-year students wished they could turn back time, especially the little lions of Gryffindor.
It would have been bad enough that their own Head of House had taken the lead in making things difficult, but then Hagrid caused a teaching accident, and might even be expelled.
Compared with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Gryffindor students still held some goodwill toward Hagrid. Although he had failed to graduate from the school, he had at least belonged to brave Gryffindor during his time as a student.
No one knew whether it was because of Hagrid's bloodline or the influence of Gryffindor courage, but he was always especially fond of magical creatures with a certain degree of danger—such as fire dragons, or three-headed dogs.
Hippogriffs could almost be considered the gentlest of Hagrid's beloved creatures. But even a clay Bodhisattva has three parts fire, let alone magical creatures that do not possess human intelligence.
Draco Malfoy being injured by Buckbeak—Hagrid certainly bore an inescapable responsibility, but young Master Malfoy was entirely asking for it himself. Harming others and himself, bringing suffering upon himself.
With his precious son injured, Lucius Malfoy was naturally unwilling to let it go.
Never mind whether his beloved son had provoked a beast or a person—his dear little Draco was hurt, and that simply would not do.
Lucius Malfoy not only reported the matter to the Board of Governors, but also took it all the way to the Ministry of Magic, declaring that the culprit—whether murderer or murderous claws—must be severely punished.
Making such a big fuss was, on one hand, to vent his anger for his son and save face for the Malfoy family; on the other hand, it was also to needle Dumbledore. Anyone with eyes could see that Hagrid, who had never graduated, being able to become a professor at Hogwarts was certainly Dumbledore's doing.
However, straining so hard to get Hagrid expelled and trying to put a hippogriff to death was, frankly, a bit beneath him—it hardly matched the dignity of the luxurious robes Lucius Malfoy wore.
Besides, Draco Malfoy really wasn't seriously hurt at all; he had been putting on an act. According to the medical advice that leaked out of the hospital wing, if Malfoy had arrived even a little later, the wound would already have scabbed over.
Eda suddenly felt that, compared to the Malfoy family, she was truly a rare example of magnanimity!
On Wednesday morning, Eda and the twins arrived at the clearing near Hagrid's hut. This was their first Care of Magical Creatures class of the school year, and also their first time taking a class taught by Hagrid.
The enormous Hagrid was waiting outside the hut for the students to arrive.
His wild long hair and tangled, thick beard looked as though they had been carefully tidied, but that did nothing to make him look cleaner or more presentable. Instead, there was an indescribable sense of sorrow about him.
Hagrid was not someone who could hide his emotions very well. Even though he tried to put on a brave front, the students could still easily see his dejection and gloom.
And from the teaching materials Hagrid had prepared, one could tell just how helpless the giant felt.
When Hagrid—who stood taller than two fully grown adults—appeared before the students with blast-ended skrewts, setting aside the reactions of the other students, even Eda and the twins found it unbelievable.
Although blast-ended skrewts and hippogriffs were both classified as xxx magical creatures by the Ministry of Magic, the level of danger between the two was not comparable at all.
Buckbeak could use its hard beak to peck people, or its sharp talons to claw humans, but the only way blast-ended skrewts could injure humans was with the spines on their bodies.
Blast-ended skrewts were often mistaken by Muggles for hedgehogs. The two were very hard to tell apart—they looked even more alike than the twins, with only slight differences in behavior to distinguish them.
If you put some food down in a garden, a hedgehog would choose to accept the offering and enjoy the meal properly; a blast-ended skrewt, on the other hand, would treat the food as a trap set by humans.
These short-tempered little creatures would cause a huge fuss, wrecking the garden inside and out.
That's right—not Nifflers, not fire crabs, and not any magical creatures of a higher danger level. The very first Care of Magical Creatures class for the fifth-years was actually blast-ended skrewts—blast-ended skrewts not even as big as Hagrid's palm!
Sure enough, this was the kind of pet a real tough guy should keep. A true man should be stroking blast-ended skrewts!
But the men of Hogwarts clearly did not understand this principle. Compared to blast-ended skrewts, they probably preferred Buckbeak instead—especially after learning that Harry had once ridden on Buckbeak's back and soared through the sky.
However, Fred and George were unexpectedly very interested in blast-ended skrewts. More precisely, they were interested in the magically charged spines on the skrewts' backs. The brothers believed these spines could be used in their new product—Skiving Snackboxes.
The girls also liked blast-ended skrewts quite a bit—of course, it would have been even better if the spines on their backs didn't prick people.
The content of this lesson was to feed the blast-ended skrewts with milk or wild daisies. It looked simple, and sounded simple too, but in practice it was not easy at all.
These little creatures with backbone absolutely refused to accept handouts. Either they would scurry around timidly trying to escape, or they would launch a counterattack, bristling the sharp spines on their bodies. If screams rang out during class, it was certain that some unlucky student had been pricked again.
Whenever someone was pricked by a blast-ended skrewt, Hagrid would become extremely nervous, clutching a jar of ointment and sprinting over at full speed.
His feet, as big as small boats, thudded heavily against the ground with loud bangs. That noise only made the blast-ended skrewts even more uneasy, which in turn led to even more unlucky victims being pricked…
The Care of Magical Creatures class fell into a baffling vicious cycle: the blast-ended skrewts raised their spines to defend themselves—the students got pricked on the hands—Hagrid came running—the heavy footsteps frightened the skrewts even more, so they raised their spines again…
Taking advantage of the moments when Hagrid was stretched too thin, Fred and George reached out their sinful little hands. The two of them were extraordinarily ruthless, plucking the spines straight off the backs of the blast-ended skrewts.
You couldn't keep pulling spines from just one skrewt, just like you can't keep shearing wool from the same sheep—once it's bald, it'll be noticed.
So the twins shifted their guilty gazes over toward Eda. The blast-ended skrewt in front of Eda also failed to escape the fate of going bald, tragically falling victim to the twins' poisonous hands.
After class, although quite a few people had been pricked by blast-ended skrewts, no one made a fuss like Malfoy. Besides, Hagrid had come well prepared this time—he kept running around with the healing ointment, and by the end of the lesson he might as well have run a ten-kilometer race.
Although this lesson was not entirely perfect, it could still be considered Hagrid's most worry-free class so far—at worst, it cost him his legs.
The fifth-year students did not kick up any complaints, did not sneer at The Monster Book of Monsters, and no one cried while looking for their father. They were already fifteen or sixteen years old, after all—it would have been far too embarrassing.
A few decades earlier, people their age could already have been parents. Running to one's parents over every little thing—how would they ever live that down if word got out?
The students all returned to the castle, but Eda and the twins stayed behind. They had something they wanted to say to Hagrid.
Ever since first year, the trio had taken advantage of Hagrid more than a few times, and today Fred and George had stuffed a whole bag full of spines. Not checking in on Hagrid would have been hard to justify.
"Thank you… thank you…" After the students had dispersed, Hagrid showed his vulnerable side. His voice was a little choked with emotion.
A tough man in tears—Hagrid looked somewhat fierce, but he was a gentle person at heart.
He treated every kind of magical creature with sincerity. He had never spoken ill of any professor (except Lockhart), and he had never come to hate the world because of his own misfortunes, nor harbored resentment toward the students of Hogwarts.
"Don't worry, Buckbeak will be fine," Fred said in consolation. "When the time comes, you'll have to let Buckbeak carry me on a flight too!" Even Fred himself didn't really believe those words, but it was all he could say.
Hagrid didn't respond. Instead, he took out an especially large handkerchief and wiped away his tears. How could he not know that these words were merely meant to comfort him, that Fred was saying them just to make him feel a little less miserable?
"Mr. Scamander knows about this too. He'll help," Eda said. Comfort no longer served any purpose, because Hagrid knew better than anyone how the Ministry of Magic would treat him and his Buckbeak.
Since there was no way to offer real comfort, Eda could only drop a name instead—I've got connections upstairs.jpg.lol.
Newt Scamander, as an expert in magizoology and Dumbledore's favored student, had naturally received the news early on. With the help of such a renowned scholar, Hagrid at least had a sliver of a chance.
Unless, of course, the Ministry of Magic pulled some under-the-table maneuver again. In that case… new grudges and old ones would be settled together.
(～￣▽￣)～Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel