The Beauxbatons campus was still damp from the earlier drizzle.
Jon Hart walked along an open-air path, the noise of the castle fading farther behind him. Just minutes earlier, he had taken off the "borrowed" Beauxbatons uniform, returned it to the old wardrobe room, and left the castle grounds.
He carefully folded the "Leave of Absence" application and slipped it into his suitcase… Now, what occupied Jon's thoughts was the reminder Madame Maxime had given him before she departed.
Though she had spoken in a roundabout way, Jon could guess what it referred to—most likely connected to Madame Maxime's identity as a half-giant.
He didn't know the details, though. Madame Maxime herself was extremely sensitive about her heritage, so there was no way she would explain too much to him… He would have to return to Hogwarts and ask Rubeus Hagrid about it.
Finding a stretch of open ground, Jon stopped and lightly pressed a hand against his shoulder.
He touched the mark Fawkes had left there.
Then Jon lifted his head and looked northward… After a few minutes, a tiny golden point appeared in the distance, drawing closer and closer. Along with it came an ethereal, mysterious melody—uplifting and stirring to the soul.
When it reached Jon, it resolved into that magnificent, brilliant red bird.
The phoenix dipped its head toward him, as though offering a greeting.
"Hello, Fawkes," Jon said with a smile. "Long time no see."
...
On the evening of September 1st, Beauxbatons was far from the only school holding an opening ceremony.
Hundreds of miles to the north, in the Scottish Highlands, amid a lake and surrounding forest… an eagerly anticipated Start-of-Term Feast was also underway at Hogwarts Castle.
Professor Rubeus Hagrid—Hogwarts' gamekeeper, Keeper of the Keys, and Care of Magical Creatures professor—was dining at the staff table.
To his left sat Professor Minerva McGonagall, and to his right Professor Sybill Trelawney. Once seated, the tops of their heads barely reached somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder.
"Hey, Harry!" Spotting Harry Potter entering the Great Hall more than half an hour late, his face smeared with blood, Hagrid immediately waved enthusiastically and called out to him.
Nearby, Professor Minerva McGonagall frowned at Hagrid's sudden outburst.
After all, on the dais, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was speaking.
"We are very pleased to welcome a new member of staff… Professor Horace Slughorn… who has agreed to return to his former post as Potions Master…" Albus Dumbledore's voice was as gentle as ever.
The short, stout Professor Slughorn hurriedly stood up and offered perfunctory smiles to the students in every direction.
"…And Professor Severus Snape will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…"
...
The feast ended before long.
Students began leaving the Great Hall in small groups, while Professor Rubeus Hagrid squeezed his way toward the Gryffindor table.
With his massive build, it was an easy task.
"Who knows whether Voldemort needs to plant someone inside Hogwarts?" Harry Potter said angrily.
"You think Snape is working for the Dark Lord, Harry?" Hermione Granger frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry… We made that same foolish assumption in our first year, and it turned out Professor Snape was on our side…"
"But Draco Malfoy said it himself—he got help from a Hogwarts professor," Harry shot back. "Who else could it be besides Snape?"
"Malfoy was just showing off in front of Parkinson," Ron Weasley said, shaking his head helplessly. "All bluster. You know what he's like, Harry."
"What are you lot talking about?" Hagrid boomed cheerfully as he bounded over, startling them.
"N-nothing…" Harry hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
"Why were you late, Harry?" Hagrid asked loudly.
"Got held up on the train." Harry wiped at the blood flowing from his nose again and lowered his voice. "What about you, Hagrid? I heard you were late too?"
"I was with Grawp and lost track of time!" Hagrid said with a broad grin. "He's got a new home in the mountains now—Professor Dumbledore arranged it. A lovely big cave. He's much happier than he was in the Forbidden Forest…"
"I talked with him for a while. Grawp's made huge progress—really huge… I'm thinking of training him as my assistant, or maybe finding him a girlfriend…"
Faced with Hagrid cheerfully rambling on, Harry, Ron, and Hermione wisely kept their mouths shut.
Talking as they walked…
Before they realized it, they had reached the oak doors.
"Alright then, see you tomorrow. First class after lunch—make sure you're early!" Hagrid waved at them happily before heading off toward the Forbidden Forest.
...
He walked back in high spirits—
But as he approached his hut, Hagrid suddenly sensed… something wasn't quite right.
Because of his giant heritage, Hagrid might sometimes seem slow, but in truth his senses and instinct for danger far surpassed those of ordinary wizards.
"Who's there?" he barked, spinning around and instinctively reaching for his crossbow.
But he had attended the feast earlier and hadn't brought it with him.
Left with no choice, Hagrid pulled out his umbrella instead.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Fang barked furiously toward the bushes.
From the shadows emerged a figure—a young man dressed like a student. Heaven only knew where he had come from
His face, however, looked vaguely familiar to Hagrid.
"You're… you're…" he murmured.
"Good evening, Professor Hagrid. I'm Christopher Patrick," Jon replied calmly, now wearing the iron ring.
"Oh—right! Patrick!" Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, slapping his forehead as recognition dawned on him.
But a moment later, another thought struck him. "Wait a minute, Patrick… Weren't you an exchange student from Beauxbatons? Your year should be over. What are you doing back at Hogwarts?"
Meeting Hagrid's suspicious gaze, Jon explained, "Madame Maxime sent me. There's something she couldn't tell me herself, so she asked me to come and ask you."
"Oh, Olympe!" Hagrid's eyes lit up at once. "What is it? Go on—ask!"
There was a hearty, almost rugged quality to his voice.
"It's about the giantess Fridwulfa… She was your mother, wasn't she?" Jon tried to keep his tone from sounding too awkward. "How did she and your father have you?"
Hagrid froze, the expression on his face shifting subtly.
For a brief moment, Jon thought Hagrid might drive him away…
But after a pause, Rubeus Hagrid nodded.
"Come inside," he said, his voice low.
The cabin had only a single room. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, a copper kettle boiled water over the brazier, and a large bed stood in the corner, covered with a quilt pieced together from scraps of cloth.
Rubeus-Hagrid stomped back and forth across the room, brewing tea with the enormous copper kettle while muttering under his breath.
At last, he set down a teacup the size of a small bucket in front of Jon with a heavy thud. The tea inside was as dark as mahogany. Along with it, he brought over a plate of his homemade rock cakes.
Jon took a small sip of the tea, pointedly ignoring the "notorious" rock cakes, and looked at Hagrid with clear anticipation.
"Yes… I imagine you're all curious," Hagrid murmured as he sat down opposite Jon. "Curious about our origins… about where people like me and Olympe come from—those born between giants and wizards…"
Ever since the Yule Ball a year and a half ago, when Hagrid had accidentally let it slip in front of Rita Skeeter's Animagus that he was a "half-giant," the news had spread across the entire British wizarding world. Since then, he had stopped avoiding the subject altogether and spoke openly about his bloodline.
However—
"Professor Hagrid, I think I need to correct one point," Jon said seriously. "Our headmistress, Madame Maxime… she's simply a witch with a naturally large build. There's no evidence that she's a half-giant."
Hagrid froze for a moment, then nodded somewhat dully. "Yes, Patrick. You're right. Olympe isn't… Here, have a rock cake."
As he spoke, he shoved a rock-hard biscuit the size of a pot lid straight into Jon's hands.
"Now then, where was I?" Hagrid scratched his head slowly. "Ah, right… I know everyone's curious about how giants and wizards manage to have children!"
...
Jon's expression turned a little awkward.
From a physiological standpoint, there were indeed… complications when it came to giants and ordinary humans.
Grawp, at sixteen feet tall—about 4.8 meters—was considered short even among giants. A fully grown giant stood between twenty and thirty feet tall. Compared to humans, this was far beyond a simple mismatch—it was an entirely different scale altogether.
"That was seventy years ago…" Hagrid muttered. "Fridwulfa—yes, you're right, my mother. I suppose Rita Skeeter has already told the whole wizarding world about that… Back then, she was one of the very few giants still left in England. Among giants, she was clever—and infamous for it."
"And my father… he was a down-on-his-luck wizard. To be honest, he wasn't particularly skilled," Hagrid's voice grew heavier. "Because he was so poor, he accepted a job from the Ministry—to hunt her down."
"Obviously, my father's hunt didn't succeed. He wasn't a great wizard, and as I said, my mother was clever. In the end, he fell into her trap… became her captive, her trophy…"
"You might not know much about giant customs," Hagrid continued. "They're nearly extinct now, after all. For a very small number of female giants, there's a practice of exploiting their captives—and using them to produce offspring."
"Exploiting their captives?" Jon repeated, stunned.
"You can think of it as mating, though it's very different… but close enough!" Hagrid said, his explanation growing a little tangled. "Most giants are thick as a plank, but a few of them are clever—clever enough to wield magic. That's why I said my mother was smart. She was one of those giants…"
"They have an innate kind of magic," Hagrid said solemnly, "one that lets them precisely tear off a small fragment of a person's soul and merge it with their own. After that, they can conceive and give birth without needing to… well, without needing to mate."
Seeing Jon sitting there, completely frozen, Hagrid pointed at the rock cake in his hands. "Eat up, Mr. Patrick."
Jon nodded stiffly, lowered his head, and took a bite—nearly cracking his teeth.
"Wizards are the best choice," Hagrid went on with a bitter smile, "because in a giant's eyes, wizards are the strongest of all creatures. But very few giants can actually capture one. That's why—when I first met Olympe, I was so… no, no, what I mean is, that's why half-giants like me are so rare!"
"My mother kept my father locked in a cave, and then I was born. My father was kind—the best wizard I've ever known. After I was born, he could have escaped, but he didn't abandon me. He stayed and raised me together with my mother… raised me all the way up."
As he spoke, Hagrid wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Then he stood, went over to the wardrobe, pulled open a drawer, and took out a photograph.
In it was a short wizard with eyes just like Hagrid's—dark, almost black, squinting into narrow slits—sitting cheerfully on Hagrid's shoulder. Judging by the apple tree beside them, Hagrid was already seven or eight feet tall, but his face was young, full, and smooth, without a trace of beard. He looked no older than eleven.
"This was taken not long after I started at Hogwarts," Hagrid said hoarsely. "My father was overjoyed… He never thought I'd become a wizard, you see, because of my mother…"
"…As for my mother, there's no need to talk about her," he continued quietly. "After a few years, she grew tired of both me and my father. She left when I was very young. That's just how giants are—there's no humanity in them."
...
At first, Hagrid's expression had been solemn, but soon he was sniffling, tears streaming down his face.
Jon barely noticed.
Because there was one detail he had caught that mattered far more.
He took a deep breath and asked, "Professor Hagrid… may I ask—your mother… is she still alive?"