Harry Potter and the Trouble With Neurotypicals: Book Four.
Or, "Autistic Potter and the Goblet of Fire."
Notes: I do not own this. J. K. Rowling does. This is just fan fiction. No money is being made. Not by me, anyway.
There may be a few bits and pieces lifted word-for-word from the canon material. I tried to do that as little as possible, though, but there's a lot more in this one than usual because it was unavoidable. Still, lots of details are changed, so don't skip by familiar parts or you might miss something.
Just as a reminder, so I don't have to shoehorn in descriptions in the text of the story as a reminder, but in this fanfic Harry and Hermione, apart from having Asperger's Syndrome, are both black as well.
'Italicized text between single quotes is almost always Parseltongue.'
Chapter 16: “An Annoying Buzzing”
Dear Luna,
Thank you for the gift you got me, it's awesome. I love hearing your heartbeat, I listened to it for an hour straight last night, falling asleep to the sound. I wear it all the time, even in the shower.
Dobby loved the scarf you got him. He wears it all over the house and I think I saw him sleeping with it in his cupboard. Which reminds me, Dobby is weird. I mean, we knew that already, but he actually prefers sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs! We offered him his own room, and he fainted. When he woke up again, he refused the offer, saying it was much too much room for him. Which, okay, the rooms in this place are huge, even the small rooms. I think the smallest room is bigger than Dudley’s room and the Dursleys' guest bedroom combined!
Speaking of Dobby, for Christmas I got him a nice leather belt to hold his pants up. I had to have one made especially to fit him, because they don't seem to make belts small enough for elves, normally. But it was worth the extra expense, to see the delighted look on his face.
I wanted to get something for Kreacher, too, but though he and Sirius have made up, Kreacher is still a more traditional elf. He did finally let me give him a pillow for his nest in the boiler room, mainly because it doesn't count as clothing in any sense. I think he still wanted to refuse, but was ultimately tempted by the softness of it.
Oh, and I might get something for Netty, too. I haven't figured out what yet, though. I don't know much about her, honestly. I'll ask Dobby, see if he knows anything. I'm not too hopeful, though; she still doesn't much like him after that fiasco in my second year. She's civil to him when they meet, but still wary and distant with him.
Winky is still here with us. Dobby has been taking care of her, trying to keep her sober, but she keeps drinking enough butterbeer to be drunk all the time, despite Dobby's best efforts. She's severely depressed, still thinks Crouch is her master, won't do any work. Or rather, can't do any work because she's too drunk to stand up most of the time. I wish I knew what to do for her. If you or your dad have any ideas, let me know, okay?
Well I only wrote this because it's basically a thank-you note that spiraled off into other topics, and I might tell you all this again later tonight via the two-way mirror, but here it is anyway. Hedwig likes the exercise anyway, she doesn't get much to do. I don't have many people I write letters to anymore, with the two-way mirrors for you and Sirius.
Happy holidays, Luna! Say “Happy Holidays” to your dad for me, too.
With love,
Harry
~
Dear Harry,
Thank you again for the gift of the trunk. I've got all seven compartments of it keyed into passwords in Elf-speech. I thought about using Mermish at first, but thought I have enough problems with my dorm-mates already without waking them up with screechy wailing noises. Elf-speech can be whispered, to make it less annoying. It's also easier for me to speak than Gobbledygook. What I'd really like, though, is if you could teach me Parseltongue. And yes, I am aware that people will likely be afraid of me if I start speaking Parseltongue. I am rather looking forward to the looks on their faces when I do, so if we could get started on that as soon as possible, that would be good. Before you object, I remind you that I don't have any friends in Ravenclaw, and plenty of enemies already. If someone can't like me for who I am, then I am fine not being friends with them.
Anyway, I am most enjoying the art studio in the fifth compartment, though the library in the sixth compartment is lovely as well. I most liked finding in it those three books about cryptomagizoology I didn't already have. I've been looking for a copy of “Callendar's Cornerstones of Crytomagizoology” for years, where ever did you find it?
I had Daddy try to use magic to break into the trunk using seventh-year spells, and he wasn't able to do it. He couldn't even lift it without being authorized first! I am quite satisfied with its security. I am, however, unsure why you got me a trunk with a bedroom in it. I already have one of those at home, and a bed in the dorm at school. Though now I think about it, I suppose you might be anticipating the other Ravenclaws who don't like me wanting to attack me in my sleep, and having somewhere safe to sleep is a good idea in that case. Is that what you were thinking? I think it must be, or else why include an attached bathroom with its own shower?
Which reminds me, as much as I appreciate it, and though I know you and Sirius are both quite well off, I am somewhat uncomfortable with you spending so much on me for one gift. I can't reciprocate that sort of expense. I know you don't expect me to, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I will ignore it this time, as it's a very thoughtful gift, and you're investing in my safety – probably the gift is as much for you as it is for me. But please, if you could spend much less on me in the future, I would appreciate that.
About Winky... I suggest Sirius order her to answer who her new master is, making it clear he's her new master, then order her to sober up, at least. House Elves don't respond to traditional human-style talk therapy, normally; they respond to orders. When they don't know what to do or how to behave, or when they're too upset to care about such things, they like having clear instructions, and orders.
If this letter reaches you before we talk tonight on the mirrors, then I will see you later. If it arrives later than that, well... either way, my apologies for being repetitive.
Happy holidays to you, Sirius, Kreacher, Dobby, and Winky!
With love,
Luna
~
The rest of the holiday was amazing. Harry had fun just spending time joking and laughing with Sirius and Remus, reading in the Black family library (which had somehow survived years of neglect mostly intact, with the dangerous books locked away in a vault in Gringotts), or having Luna or Ron come over some days to visit. (Hermione and the others were all visiting family abroad.) He even used some spending money he got for Christmas or Yule to order a book from India about the use of Parseltongue in healing magic, as well as a book of Parseltongue spells, jinxes, and hexes, both books ordered through a book seller on the continent that Sirius knew about.
On the last day of the holiday before going back (Saturday January 2nd), Harry was dueling with Sirius in the dueling room. They'd been doing a lot of that over the holiday. Between the Triwizard Tournament and the fact he had a vicious psychopathic murderer after his blood, Harry thought the more he practiced dueling, the better. And the last few days of the holiday, he'd been practicing with his new custom-made backup wand, which he kept in an invisible wrist holster. The new wand was made of African acacia wood, was 11 inches long, and wasn't quite as powerful as his phoenix wand because it used as its core one of his own hairs.
This particular day, he was trying a new spell from his Parseltongue spell book, a form of shield that could only be cast in Parseltongue.
'Cobra hood shield,' he said in Parseltongue, as Sirius shot a Stunner at him. A black, misty spell came out of his wand and hung in front of him like a slightly transparent giant cobra's hood taking hits for him. The other side of his body was protected by a mirror image of the cobra hood giving him full coverage. The way the shield took the Stunner was fascinating, as well; it seemed to reach out and devour the enemy spell, using its magic to strengthen itself. It took five hits in a row from Sirius's overpowered Stunners before it collapsed with a slight hissing sound.
“Impressive, pup. I have to say, I'm still uncomfortable with you being a Parselmouth, but if using this power keeps you safe, and if the people of India think of Parseltongue as Good magic, then I guess I can live with that discomfort.”
“Thanks, Sirius.” Harry said, then paused to think a moment. “But you know, it occurs to me that non-verbal magic has advantages over verbal magic. I need to work on that more, even with the Parseltongue magic, because Voldemort is a Parselmouth as well.”
“Okay, we can try again.”
Harry nodded, and they tried it with Harry trying to cast the spell non-verbally, but nothing happened. He thought maybe he had to be looking at a snake to cast the spell non-verbally. He'd been imagining snakes in his head for the verbal version, but that wasn't good enough, it seemed. So he called a time-out and retrieved Mouse-Stalker.
With his pet magical snake around his shoulders, he found he could cast the Parseltongue spells non-verbally by speaking down the Familiar bond with Mouse-Stalker, which registered as Parseltongue when he did. The spells weren't quite as powerful done that way as aloud, with the exception of a couple Parseltongue spells that had been specifically designed to be cast non-verbally, but it wasn't too bad; the Cobra Hood Shield took four hits before collapsing, instead of five. It was still an impressive shield. But of course, it had a down side: it was difficult to cast, with a tricky wand movement, and had taken Harry four tries before he got it right. That, and each hit to the shield drained his energy and made him sweat.
Harry took a break for lunch, flipping through the Parseltongue spell book as he did. He found one particularly interesting spell, a non-verbal shield spell, and started practicing the wand movements for it. When lunch was over, he and Sirius went back to the dueling room with Remus, and Harry practiced the new shield spell.
'Hibernation shield,' Harry cast non-verbally. What happened this time looked like a mass of 100 or more ghost-like, pine-green snakes writhing in a dome-shaped mass over his body. Whenever Sirius or Remus shot a spell at him, one or more of the snakes would take the hit and disappear. How many snakes took the hit depended on the power of the spell coming at him, so he could take anywhere from 100 really weak jinxes to a half-dozen or so really powerful hexes or curses. The down side was that it took a lot of effort to maintain. Harry only had it up for a couple minutes, and it took him ten minutes to recover from the effort.
“That spell is most impressive, Harry,” Remus said. “I just wouldn't recommend using any of these Parseltongue spells in the Tournament is all, unless you find a non-verbal Parseltongue spell that doesn't cleave to the theme of snakes in a way that's obvious to anyone watching. I don't think anyone outside of friends and family and Dumbledore know you're a Parselmouth, yet. And while other parts of the world think highly of Parseltongue, Britain is not one of those places.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, I want to try some of these hexes. I think I have a couple that fit Tournament criteria, but I won't be certain until I try.”
Remus made him point out which spells he meant in the book before letting him try them, to make sure they sounded safe enough to try out. They did, since this particular book had been written by an Indian author on the Light-leaning side of Gray Magic. The first one he wanted to try, he practiced the wand movements for about 15 minutes before attempting the spell against a person.
'Dry-bite hex,' he cast non-verbally. Remus's torso got struck by two red points of light that had apparently crossed the space between the two of them at the speed of light, something most spells didn't do. As such, it had hit Remus before he could put up a shield in time. Luckily, the only thing the spell did was cause pain in the spots it struck, and knocked out the victim like a Stunner.
“Rennervate,” Sirius cast, waking Remus up. Remus groaned, rubbing his chest where the hex had hit him; apparently, it still hurt.
“Yes, Harry,” Remus said as Sirius helped him up, “I'd say that one is both effective and ambiguous enough in appearance to be passed off as simply an unusual Stunner. I think someone like Moody, Voldemort, or Dumbledore would be able to tell what it was, though. But most people should be none the wiser.”
“Thanks. By the way, Sirius, I've been thinking about the Second Task. The First Task didn't allow Mouse-Stalker, because I might have used him to cheat somehow. I don't think it's possible, but I'm curious if there's any rule against using him in the Second Task. Can you check to see if there's any rule against using Familiars in the Second and Third Tasks, Sirius?”
“I'll have Ms. Pennyroyal look into it, Harry.”
“Sirius,” Remus said, “I don't think that will be necessary. You can check with her anyway, but when I played your memory of the night Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, I remember something from that. Ms. Selby said, and I quote, 'You will also be allowed one companion, who will be in charge of judging your coping level and helping you recover mentally if you are unable to cope, or pull you out of the Task if you are unable to recover to complete the Task.' Between that and the other provisos, like them not being allowed to use their wand to help you, and so on, I think a Familiar might be considered worthy of replacing Sirius if it's an either/or situation.
“What's more, as a snake, magical or otherwise, he likely wouldn't be considered intelligent enough to give you any kind of significant edge over the competition.”
“Well, we can talk with Ms. Pennyroyal about it, anyway,” Sirius said. “Later, though.”
Harry nodded, and they went back to practicing spells.
'Torpor of relief,' Harry cast aloud, in Parseltongue. This spell had the interesting effect of making Sirius giddy and giggly like he was high on laughing gas.
“What was that one?” Remus asked. “I don't recall approving that one, Harry.”
“Er, sorry. It's a pain relief spell intended for countering really serious amounts of pain. Broken legs, open wounds, that sort of thing. 'Awaken from torpor,'” he cast at Sirius, again in Parseltongue, and the effect was lifted.
“Hmm... clever, using a mostly harmless medical spell in a combat situation. A bit like a Confundus charm, used that way. Not quite, but certainly would make it hard for someone to focus on fighting.”
Harry tried out three more Parseltongue spells before they gave up for the night. One held the opponent in tight invisible snake coils, like an Incarcerous that didn't have any ropes to cut, and would tighten if the person tried wriggling out of it. Though unlike Incarcerous, it had to be held with a continuous input of magic or it would collapse.
Another was a spell that, when it struck true, caused a barely-visible spectral serpent to wrap around the victim's eyes and make it impossible for that one person to see the person who cast the spell, even though others could still see them fine. The serpent was only really visible up close, and only for a second before it faded from view. It had an advantage over the Disillusionment spell in that he was still visible to himself, and the spell also made it so the victim couldn't see where Harry was disturbing the environment if he bumped into something, and presumably would hide his movements through tall grass.
Harry also found he could overpower the spell and cast it wide to hit multiple people at once with the spell, though that took a lot more out of him and made the spell last a much shorter amount of time.
The last Parseltongue spell he learned that day was a spell that looked similar to the Dry-Bite Hex, but the twin lights hit the person's wand hand, making it swell up to the point it was unusable until the counter-charm was given. They were good spells, and he decided he'd try to go to the Dueling Club more regularly, since he was responsible for it still going in the first place, and try the new spells out in an actual duel.
~
Harry was glad he had a lot of room in his trunk, it being a multiple-compartment trunk like he'd given to Luna (he'd gotten it at the same time, having forgotten to do so before school), because along with gifts from Hermione and Draco and Luna, he had gifts from other friends as well. Antigone had gotten him another vinyl record, one by The Weird Sisters. Danzia had gotten him a ring that you can spin, nothing at all magical about it, just a fidget toy. With all his friends and other people who got him gifts now, he didn't think a regular trunk would have been anywhere near big enough.
On the train, Harry got a compartment with Luna, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. His other friends dropped in on their way elsewhere; Danzia stayed to talk for 20 minutes before moving on. Antigone and Angela were holding hands when they stopped by; he knew they'd been girlfriends for as long as he'd known them, but he couldn't recall them holding hands before. He wondered if going to the Yule Ball together had given them more bravery to be more open about their relationship.
Draco joined them after half an hour and stayed. Harry was just leaning against Luna and staring off into space during the train ride. As he did, Luna noticed Draco reading a book about the basics of spell-crafting, and looking over the top of his book to look at Hermione every now and then.
“Should we try to help them out?” Luna asked. “Hermione doesn't seem to have any idea, after all. And Draco isn't going to get anywhere without just telling her; hints aren't enough.”
“I'll talk to Draco later,” Harry said.
“Oh good. Tell me how it goes after you do, will you?”
“Sure thing. What about Ron? He's still kinda down after that Yule Ball date went sideways. I think having a girlfriend would help his state of mind.”
“Yes, but these things have to happen at least somewhat naturally. Draco already fancies Hermione, and I think she only went with Krum to the ball because he was the first to ask her.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Ron asked.
“Sweet nothings,” Harry lied. Ron's face went red and he went back to his game of Exploding Snap.
“That wasn't true, Harry,” Luna whispered.
“Yeah, but it was better than telling him it's none of his business. That would've sounded rude.”
She chuckled at him, running her fingers through his hair.
“Anyway, thank you about that advice for Winky. Sirius ordered her to sober up and defer to Dobby for something to do with herself, and she's been responding well to it. She's still not very happy, but she's sober now and she's working. I wondered what three elves were going to do fighting over work in one house, but Sirius found a second Black family house in Italy. As soon as that one is professionally cleaned out like the first one, Dobby and Winky will have work over there, too.”
“Glad to hear she's doing better.”
The rest of the train trip was pretty languid. Harry actually slept through most of it, and was still feeling groggy when he got into the carriage with the same people who had been in the train compartment with him. But by the time they got out of the carriages, Harry was wide awake. He was a little bit groggy again later after dinner, but not too bad.
“'First dueling club meeting of the term after dinner on Wednesday,'” Harry said, reading off the announcement board in the Griffindor common room after dinner was over. “I want to go. I haven't been going enough, considering I convinced them to keep it going.”
Ron got out his wand and cast a spell to make it so others couldn't eavesdrop. “You just want to try out that Parseltongue spell that you told me about on the train,” Ron said.
“Well yeah.”
“Okay, but how're you gonna do it without revealing you're a Parselmouth to the world?”
“I'll have Mouse-Stalker with me. I can cast the spell non-verbally by speaking it down the Familiar bond.”
“Well okay. Just don't use any of those others in front of everyone. You start using snake-themed spells, people are gonna figure it out, especially since you have a snake Familiar.”
“Yes, I know. The two snake shields are cool and would be useful, but yeah, I'm not gonna use those in public. I've been scanning the book for spells that aren't obviously snake-themed, like you said. I found a few more so far.”
“Good to know. Rita Skeeter would have a field day if she knew you were a Parselmouth.”
“I know, I know. I'll be very careful.”
~
January 4th, 1995
On the first day of class for the term, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. So they were all quite surprised, when trudging through the thick snow from Herbology to Hagrid's class, to find that Hagrid wasn't there. Instead, there was an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.
“Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago,” she barked at them as they struggled toward her through the snow.
“Who’re you?” said Ron, staring at her. “Where’s Hagrid?”
“My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank,” she said briskly. “I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher.”
“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry repeated loudly.
“He is indisposed,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.
Soft and unpleasant laughter reached Harry’s ears. He turned; Theodore Knott and his group of Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.
Draco leaned up to whisper in Harry's ear. “They were talking at the Slytherin table during breakfast. Skeeter printed an article about Hagrid being part giant.”
“How did she find out about that?”
“Well from what Antigone said the day we went home for the holidays, he was talking rather loudly. This was bound to come out.”
“What's bound to have come out?” Ron asked.
“Hagrid's giant problem,” Draco said. “Rita Skeeter found out, and printed an article about it.”
“No talking, you lot,” Grubbly-Plank said. “This way, please,” she continued, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco followed her, looking back over their shoulders at Hagrid’s cabin. Harry wondered what emotional state Hagrid was in if he was locked up in his cabin rather than teaching class. Hagrid's passion was magical creatures; being made a teacher had him over the moon when it happened, so he must be pretty depressed.
Grubbly-Plank led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.
Many of the girls “ooooohed!” at the sight of the unicorn.
“Oh it’s so beautiful!” whispered Lavender Brown. “How did she get it? They’re supposed to be really hard to catch!”
The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow all around look gray. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head.
“Boys keep back!” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. “They prefer the woman’s touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it.”
The girls walked slowly up to the unicorn. Before Grubbly-Plank could join them, Harry gently tugged on the sleeve of her robes to get her attention. She turned to consider him curiously.
“Professor Grubbly-Plank? What do you mean by they don't like boys? How can they tell?”
“Excellent question, Mr. Potter. There are many theories, ranging from scent to magic. But we aren't really sure.”
“Um, Professor? Can I whisper something in your ear so others don't hear it?”
“No need. I have a suspicion of what you're going to ask.”
“You do?”
She nodded, and whispered in his ear instead. “It's about Miss Dreyfuss, right?”
“Er, yes, that was one thing. But there's something else.”
“Well go ahead, Mr. Potter.”
Whispering in her ear, he told her, “I don't consider myself a boy. Nor a girl.”
“Hmm... well in that case, if you stay behind after class, we shall do an experiment, see what they make of you.”
The professor left him then to join the girls.
“Hey Potter, why no crying about Hagrid?” Theodore Knott asked. “Or,” he continued, breathing heavily in mockery, “maybe... you'll... panic... instead?”
The Slytherins around him laughed cruelly. Harry ignored them, trying to pay attention to the unicorn.
“Potter! Hey Potter! I was talking to you! Or are you deaf as well as a retard?”
Unfortunately for Knott, Professor Grubbly-Plank had heard that. As he and his cronies laughed, she turned around, marched over to Knott, and snapped, “Mr. Knott! I do not permit such language in my classroom! Ten points from Slytherin, and a detention! Meet me outside Dumbledore's office tonight at 6 PM sharp for your detention!”
Harry couldn't help but grin as Knott and his his cronies stopped laughing at glowered at Grubbly-Plank. Draco even snickered a little, defying the usual rule of “Slytherins present a united front.”
Grubbly-Plank returned to the group of girls around the unicorn, snapped at the boys and Harry to be sure to pay attention, and began to lecture loudly about unicorns for the rest of the class. Whenever Knott or his friends tried talking again, she'd glare at them so intensely it made everyone look her way. So the rest of the class was quite peaceful.
When the class was over, Harry stayed behind. Hermione, Ron, and Draco stayed behind too, looking confused.
“I'll explain later. You lot go on, I'll catch up later.”
They accepted this, and took off, looking back once in a while. Once they were out of hearing range, Professor Grubbly-Plank spoke.
“So, neither a boy nor a girl? That's a new one on me, but let's see what the unicorn makes of you.”
She guided Harry over to the unicorn. Feeling something crawling in his hair, Harry pulled a fat beetle out of it and tossed the creature aside. He watched it fly away for a moment before focusing on the professor.
“Well, Potter, put out a hand, see what it does.”
Harry put a hand out to the unicorn. It sniffed his hand and cocked its head in a manner that suggested confusion. It sniffed again, even more than before, and even licked him experimentally. It looked even more confused than ever for a moment, before seeming to come to a decision and rubbing its muzzle against his hand in a manner more reminiscent of a cat than a horse.
“Well, that's fascinating, Potter. With boys and men, unicorns are normally very skittish, and can be dangerous under those conditions. But this one seems to like you. It's not being nearly as affectionate as it would be if you were a girl, but still, this is interesting. Mr. Potter, would you mind if I used this information to write up a paper for “Magizoology Monthly”? I wouldn't use your name, just 'subject A identifies as neither male nor female,' and the results of how the unicorn responded?”
“Oh. Um, sure. Okay.”
“Excellent. I just wish I had more examples of people like yourself to try to rule out other possibilities.”
“Um... I dunno if this is helpful or not, but centaurs and goblins identify the same way.”
“Hmm... I'm not sure what unicorns would make of Goblins in general, to be honest. I know they don't mind the centaurs, but then they don't have a lot of contact with each other. It's worth looking into, anyway. Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Professor.
“I hope I can get your friend Miss Dreyfuss to agree to help as well. I don't think anyone’s ever knowingly observed the result of unicorn behavior around transgender girls before.”
“Er, would you like me to ask her about it when I see her next?”
“Yes, please, if you'd be so kind. Oh and, Mr. Potter? What pronouns should I use with you? And, um... I don't know any terms of address other than gendered terms like Mr. and Miss.”
“It's fine, I'm still using male pronouns and terms of address, for now.”
“Oh, okay, that's easier. But let me know if it changes, okay?”
“I will, Professor.”
“Good. Anyway, it's lunchtime now, I'll escort you back to the Great Hall.”
~
Harry begged off explaining why he'd stayed behind class until later, as he wanted to be as sure as possible of the conversation being private. Instead, he passed the latest copy of the Prophet around to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
Hermione was appalled. “How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don’t think Hagrid told her?”
“No,” said Harry. “I reckon Antigone and Draco are right, he was just so loud somebody heard who shouldn't have, and they blabbed, and it eventually got to Skeeter.”
“Yes, but it wouldn't have had much time to get through the rumor mill, we went home on the 23rd!”
“Plenty of time for it to make the rounds,” Ginny said.
“Yes, but I don't think any of us heard the rumor at all in that time! And it's been weeks!”
Ginny shrugged. “So it made the rounds but didn't get to us before break, and then over the holidays, everyone who knew forgot to talk about it anymore when they got back. But someone might have told a parent the day they got back, and then the parent could have told Skeeter.”
Ron said, “Yeah, I can imagine Knott telling his father about it if he knew.”
“True, but he would have found us on the train and teased us about it,” Harry said.
Ron deflated. “Damn. Good point. Well it's still likely someone else told.”
“Was she at the ball?” Hermione asked.
“I don't know. I doubt it. I think Antigone and Angela would have mentioned it if they'd seen her. And she was banned from the grounds.”
“Maybe she's got an invisibility cloak?” Ron speculated.
“However she got in, if that's what happened, we've got to see him this evening after our classes to tell him we want him back,” said Harry. At the look on Hermione's face, he added, “you do want him back, right?”
“I — well, I’m not going to pretend it didn’t make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once — but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!” Hermione added hastily, quailing under Harry’s furious stare.
So that evening after dinner, the three of them left the castle once more and went down through the frozen grounds toward Hagrid’s cabin. Casting privacy charms around themselves even though nobody else was in sight, they asked Harry why he'd been held back in Magical Creatures.
“I asked Grubbly-Plank about what the unicorn would make of me. Um... I don't think I've told you two yet, so might as well tell you now: I don't feel like a boy, but I also don't feel like a girl. Luna says it's called 'agender.' I wanted to know what the unicorn would make of me, and Grubbly-Plank didn't know, so once everyone else was gone, I went up to it to find out.”
“How did it go?”
“The unicorn was confused at first, but then accepted me.”
“How can you be neither a boy or a girl?” Ron asked.
Harry frowned slightly. “The same way someone declared a boy at birth can actually be a girl. The same way people who agree with their birth declaration of gender can match the gender they were declared. It's something deep down in, I dunno, the soul or something. If your gender matches what everyone says you are, you never question it. But from the moment I knew what the word 'boy' meant, some part of me was rebelling against it. But when I think about being called a girl, I feel the same rebellious feeling.
“And though I always knew, in some way, it took a lotta years to figure that out, and even more years to work out what was going on enough to find the words to describe it. And now 'agender,' meaning 'without gender,' it fits me, it feels comfortable. But if I hadn't met Antigone, and then talked about it with Luna, I might've gone decades or longer before realizing this about myself.”
“Yeah but I mean, what does it feel like? It just seems weird to me, I can't even imagine it. Are you sure you're not wrong about this?”
“Ron,” Harry said with forced calm, “where Antigone is concerned, can you imagine what it feels like to be a girl?”
Ron turned red and shook his head. “Of course not!”
“And yet you believe she really does feel like a girl?”
“Er... yes. Yeah, I do. Why?”
“It's the same thing. You can't imagine how it feels, but it's still true.”
“Sure, but I can tell Antigone's a girl cuz of how she talks, walks, dresses, smells, and so on. She even feels like a girl the few times we've accidentally bumped into each other, or shook hands. She feels different from a bloke. Honestly, it's a bit weird trying to imagine how anyone could have ever mistaken her for a boy.”
“So are you saying that I feel the same as a bloke? That I act the same way and stuff?”
“I...” Ron stood there, thinking. All three of them had long since stopped, about halfway to Hagrid's hut. “Well... hmm... I dunno. I never really thought about it before. I mean with Antigone, once I knew her secret, I was trying to figure it out, and I eventually got to thinking it's weird that anyone could've ever thought her anything but a girl. But I never had to think about you the same way before, so... well... and with Antigone, it was obvious she's a girl. She's never seemed to be anything else. Now if she'd started out dressing like a boy and cutting her hair short like a boy, and not using makeup... I guess I'd have thought she was a boy, and thinking of her as a girl might have been more difficult. I dunno.” He shrugged.
Harry nodded. Ron was rambling, his thoughts bouncing around from point to point, but Ron's point was clear; with Antigone, he'd never really had to adjust his thinking. With Harry, however...
“Then there's the fact girls are, you know, girls. I can't say I've ever met someone agender before. What does that even look like? Only things I knew could be agender before were, you know, plants and chairs and stuff.”
Harry suddenly noticed Hermione hadn't talked at all during this exchange, which was a bit odd for her. He looked at her.
“What do you think, Hermione?”
“I... well, I can see where you're coming from, sort of. I've always thought the things that girls should and shouldn't be or do were kind of stupid. Girls aren't supposed to be smart, girls are supposed to be more social than boys, girls are supposed to know all the social rules that nobody ever talks about and know them better than boys. Girls are supposed to care about their appearance, girls aren't supposed to be friendless, girls who read are considered weird unless it's romance novels or teen magazines or some other rubbish like that.
“And then I also thought it was stupid that if a boy did any of the things that 'only girls' are supposed to do, that he got bullied for it. It's stupid, and arbitrary, and I never understood it, and I don't think I want to understand it.
“But all that said, I still think of myself as a girl. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. The idea of being neither a girl nor a boy doesn't appeal to me personally. But I can still see where it could. I can still see where it'd be possible to be neither gender.”
Harry grinned at her. Then he looked over to Ron. Ron still looked thoughtful and confused at the same time. When he caught Harry's eye, though, he shrugged.
“I don't get it, mate. But I don't really get Danzia's asexuality, either, and I still take her word for it. So I'm gonna take your word for it, Harry.”
“Thanks, Ron. Now, let's go to Hagrid's before it gets too dark out.”
They finished their walk to Hagrid's in relative silence, minds now on Hagrid again. They approached his door and knocked, and Fang’s booming barks answered.
“Hagrid, it’s us!” Harry shouted, pounding on the door. “Open up!”
Hagrid didn’t answer. They could hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it didn’t open. They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Ron even went and banged on one of the windows, but there was no response.
“What’s he avoiding us for?” Hermione said when they had finally given up and were walking back to the school. “He surely doesn’t think we’d care about him being half-giant?”
But it seemed that Hagrid did care. They didn’t see a sign of him all week. He didn’t appear at the staff table at mealtimes, they didn’t see him going about his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor Grubbly-Plank continued to take the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Knott was gloating at every possible opportunity.
“Missing your half-breed pal?” he kept whispering to Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that he was safe from Harry’s retaliation. “Missing the elephant-man?”
By Wednesday, Knott had been mocking Harry so much over Hagrid that Harry was quite glad to see him in the Dueling Club after dinner that day, which was being held now in one of the old dueling chambers that had been out of use for decades. Professor Flitwick and Professor Moody were overseeing it, the two of them now focusing on teaching spells like stunners and a few more advanced spells.
Harry got paired with Draco, and the club meeting went pretty well, but the whole time Harry was itching to fight Knott. Luckily for him, Knott seemed just as keen on fighting Harry. During the last half hour of the meeting was a time during which people could challenge each other to duels if they wanted to, usually to hone their skills against a different opponent than usual.
So when Knott said, “I, Theodore Knott, challenge Harry Potter to a duel,” Harry smirked at him, making the other boy's confident face falter a little.
“I accept your challenge, Theodore Knott.”
Moody gave the rules for the duel; nothing deadly, nothing too dangerous, and the duel would be over when one of them was incapacitated or disarmed.
Harry and Knott got into their starting positions in the room's central dueling stage, got into the dueling stance with their feet firm and their wands out. Mouse-Stalker shifted place under Harry's robes and poked his head out of Harry's outer robes where Harry saw him momentarily.
“Start the duel on three! One, two, THREE!” Moody called.
Knott and Harry began pacing around each other, sizing each other up for a few moments. “STUPEFY!” Knott shouted. Harry ducked out of the way and shot back with “Incarcerous!” But his shot had been wide, and the ropes he'd summoned had hit the wards around the stage, dissolving into nothing in seconds because they had never been real.
“Impedimenta!” “Tarantallegra!” “Furnunculus!” Back and forth this went, until Knott cast “Bombarda!” and Harry cast “Protego zygós!” A shield spell appeared that was composed of large, overlapping scales, as it was ablative; Harry had learned it in a previous Dueling Club meeting. The Bombarda hit the shield and knocked some of the scales off; they disappeared and were replaced. Three more spells flew at the shield and knocked scales off.
When the shield collapsed, Harry was ready. The instant the shield fell, he was non-verbally casting down the link to Mouse-Stalker, 'Bite the hand!'
There was a flash of twin red lights on Knott's wand hand, making it fly upward, and his wand fell behind him, his hand swelling up like a balloon. “Accio Knott's wand!” Harry cast, and the wand went flying into his left hand.
“Potter wins!” Moody declared, then began stumping over to Knott to see if he could fix the hand that was now so swollen it couldn't be moved at all, the skin shiny like a balloon. Knott was annoyed and frustrated, but the hand didn't seem to hurt. Moody soon had the hand deflated and back to normal, but as Harry was tossing Knott's wand back to him, he noticed Moody's magic eye giving him an odd look, one that was much more prolonged than usual for Moody.
~
January 16th, 1995
There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January, and Harry had asked Luna to go with him to it. She was delighted to go, and was excited the whole week leading up to it.
On the day of the trip, Harry met Luna in the Great Hall, and together with Ron and Hermione, they made their way to Hogsmeade. On the way, they spotted Viktor Krum walking from the Durmstrang ship towards Hogsmeade ahead of them. Ron said nothing, but he glowered in Krum's direction. He also looked suspiciously between Krum and Hermione so obviously that even Harry picked up on it.
“Since you seem so keen on your accusative staring, Ronald, the answer is no, Viktor and I are not an item. We went to one ball together. He asked me because I was the only girl he'd seen who didn't fangirl over him like a twit. Yes, he also thinks I'm pretty, but we're not together, we're friends.”
Ron's expression eased up a little. “Just friends?”
“Yes. We went to one ball together. He asked me because I was always in the library and never fangirled over him, and it didn't hurt that I was pretty to him. I accepted because nobody else had asked me yet, I didn't think anyone was going to ask me, and I didn't want to go by myself. That's all there was to it.
“And then, when you finally asked me, I'd already promised Viktor I'd go with him, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings by breaking that promise. Besides which, the way you asked me made me think you only asked me because you didn't have anyone else who was up to your standards.”
Ron had the decency, at least, to look abashedly down at his feet from this comment. “Sorry I was such a git, 'mione.”
“Apology heard. I'll consider accepting it on the condition you try to improve your behavior. And so you don't wonder what I mean, I mean not acting like a jealous git when you don't even have any legitimate claim to jealousy. Honestly, jealousy is never attractive, Ron. I like you as a friend, Ron, but I won't even consider dating you until you exorcise yourself of this jealousy.”
“I... buh... bwa?” Ron said.
“Eloquent as always, I see,” she said, but it was with a bit of a smirk.
“Hermione is right, Ron,” Luna said. “You're quite fanciable, except for that jealousy, and your inferiority complex. Which is completely unjustified, by the way. Yes, I know you want to outshine your brothers, but you're a chess prodigy and you've helped Harry defeat You-Know-Who twice now. You're great at tactics, too. When You-Know-Who returns, I can easily see you being like a general, helping Harry guide troops around against the enemy.”
Ron stared at Luna open-mouthed, but for once seeming to have a glimmer of believing her in his face. “You really think so, Luna?”
“I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it, Ron. Lying is against my nature.”
Ron blinked. “So you really do believe in all those weird creatures?”
While Harry and Hermione sighed and rolled their eyes, Luna smiled. “Yes, Ronald, I do. And as Harry pointed out once, if Muggles can spend their whole lives thinking unicorns and dragons are imaginary, and find out they're wrong later, then isn't it possible most wizards and witches might not know every creature there is to know?”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “And what's more, some mundane animals Muggles discover were thought to be imaginary for a long time. The mountain gorilla of Africa was long thought to be a myth told by locals until the Western scientists actually found and documented some of them. Who's to say there aren't magical animals currently thought to be myths, that will turn out to be real some day?”
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped when he noticed they were in Hogsmeade now.
“I really am sorry, Hermione, about being such a git during the Yule Ball.”
“I know. I provisionally accept your apology, Ron. Now let's go see if Hagrid is in the Three Broomsticks.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“By the way, you should apologize to Tracey Davis as well.”
“Er, yeah. I'll work on that.”
Hagrid wasn't in the Three Broomsticks, though. When Ron asked her, Madam Rosmerta said she hadn't seen him since before Skeeter's article came out, which for Hagrid was unusual. But they did see Ludo Bagman talking with a bunch of Goblins. Luna had her head cocked, listening in on the conversation, which was mostly in Gobbledygook, on the Goblins' side, and whispered on Bagman's side. Harry looked at her to try to guess how much she understood, but she gave up after a bit and said, “They're talking much too fast for me to pick up more than a few words. I think they're talking about money, though.”
Then Bagman spotted Harry, and stood up.
“In a moment, in a moment!” Harry heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place.
“Harry!” he said. “How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?”
“Fine, thanks,” said Harry.
“Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry?” said Bagman eagerly. “You couldn’t give us a moment, you three, could you?”
“Luna and I are on a date, Mr. Bagman. And anyway, anything you say to me I'm just going to relay to my friends anyway. So you might as well just say it here and now.”
“Er, well... I mean, I don't really want certain people to overhear us, if you know what I mean. A certain reporter, you know...”
Harry took out his wand and casually cast several privacy spells around them.
“There you go, now you can speak freely.”
“Er... well okay, then,” Bagman said. “First, Harry, I just wanted to congratulate you on your splendid performance against that dragon. Quite clever and spectacular.”
“Thanks. But if you could get to the point soon, that would be helpful.”
Bagman didn’t seem in any particular rush to spill the beans, though. Harry saw him glance into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him and Harry in silence through their dark, slanting eyes.
“Absolute nightmare,” said Bagman to Harry in an undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins too. “Their English isn’t too good … it’s like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup … but at least they used sign language another human could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook … and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. 'Bladvak.' It means ‘pickax.’ I don’t like to use it in case they think I’m threatening them.”
Luna smiled at him. “I could translate for you, Mr. Bagman. The Goblins would have to speak more slowly so I can understand them, but I do speak fairly decent Gobbledygook.”
“Oh er, you do, do you? Um...” he seemed to mull it over a few moments before saying, “well uh... I mean, I uh, I can understand more of it than I can speak, so I know what they want. And I think they know English enough to understand it. So no thank you, I don't think that will be necessary, young lady. I thank you for the offer, though.”
“What is it they want?” Harry asked.
“Er — well …” said Bagman, looking suddenly nervous. “They … er … they’re looking for Barry Crouch.”
Luna frowned ever so slightly at this.
“Why are they looking for him here?” said Harry. “He’s at the Ministry in London, isn’t he?”
“Er … as a matter of fact, I’ve no idea where he is,” said Bagman. “He’s sort of … stopped coming to work. Been absent for a couple of weeks now. Young Percy, his assistant, says he’s ill. Apparently he’s just been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone, you lot? Because Rita Skeeter’s still poking around everywhere she can, and I’m willing to bet she’d work up Barty’s illness into something sinister. Probably say he’s gone missing like Bertha Jorkins.”
“Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins?” Harry asked.
“No,” said Bagman, looking strained again. “I’ve got people looking, of course …” (About time, thought Harry) “and it’s all very strange. She definitely arrived in Albania, because she met her second cousin there. And then she left the cousin’s house to go south and see an aunt … and she seems to have vanished without trace en route. Blowed if I can see where she’s got to … she doesn’t seem the type to elope, for instance … but still. … What are we doing, talking about goblins and Bertha Jorkins? I really wanted to ask you” — he lowered his voice — “how are you getting on with your puzzle box?”
“Oh, we solved that one already,” Luna said. “Before the holidays, even. Yes, a Task modeled after the Odyssey, sounds like fun.”
“You solved it, then? Well did you work out what all the clues mean? Do you know where you have to go?”
“Yes. We start at the Forbidden Forest.”
“Yes, quite right. Well Harry, you know, I feel bad about you being roped into this thing against your will. I know you've got your friends to help, but you know, if you need any help at all, I'm willing and able to help out a little. Prod you in the right direction, maybe give you some spells to help out... what do you say?”
Hermione gasped. Harry beat her to talking, though, saying, “I'd say that sounds like cheating, Mr. Bagman. And while I do need all the help I can get to get through this alive, I don't need to win, I just need to get through it. Sure, I did well against the dragon, but that's no guarantee I'll be any good at the other two tasks.”
“Yes, which is why I'm offering to help you.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Bagman?” Luna asked. “Because the Goblins were saying something about money earlier, and given your sudden interest in helping Harry, it seems to me you might be betting on Harry to win.”
Bagman blanched. “I... what a thing... can't... preposterous! Simply absurd! Why would I do such a thing?”
“Well, you were taking bets at the World Cup.”
Looking sour, Bagman said, “Oh, you were there, weren't you?”
“I was dressed as a leprechaun,” Luna said brightly.
“Ah, yes. Well, would it be so bad if I were? Harry, you and I could both profit off this. If you win, you'd be safe, and we could both win a lot of money. There'd be enough for both of us to share.”
“No thank you, I don't need any money. Between the Potter vaults and Sirius's access to the Black family vault, I have more than enough money to be going on with.”
“Well you could always donate your winnings to St. Mungo's or some other worthy charity.”
Hermione said, “A Ministry official betting on this Tournament and trying to help their champion win is unethical enough as is, Mr. Bagman, without you asking Harry to bet on himself!”
“Yes,” Harry added, “and I don't think I have a chance of winning, honestly. I think you'd be better off betting I lose.”
“Oh really? Hmm... You know, Harry, if you were to throw the Tournament--”
“Can't. I have to do my best, remember? Could lose my magic or worse if I don't. So no, I'm not going to throw the Tournament.”
“Right, right, sorry about that, I quite forgot. Forget I mentioned it.”
“Have you offered Cedric help?” Harry asked.
The smallest of frowns creased Bagman’s smooth face. “No, I haven’t,” he said. “I — well, I mean, I’ve taken a liking to you. Just thought I’d offer...”
“Well thanks, but no thanks. I'm just trying to survive this thing, and if getting help from you means you're betting on me for any reason, my answer is no.”
“Hmph... well Harry, if you change your mind, here's my card. It's enchanted to buzz its brother in my pocket when you put your wand on it and say my name. I'll be able to turn up as quick as possible.”
Harry took the stiff cardboard business card with “Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, British Ministry of Magic” written on it.
“Er, sure thing, Mr. Bagman.” He pocketed the card.
“Good, good. Well, it was nice talking with you, Harry,” Bagman said, getting up to return to the Goblins.
“He shouldn’t be doing that!” said Hermione once he was out of range, looking very angry. “He’s one of the judges!”
“The Ministry is very corrupt, Hermione,” Luna said. “It's the Rotfang Conspiracy, you know. They're working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Well, I don’t think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat, Harry!” said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving. “And he's not even trying to help Cedric! I mean, apart from the unfairness of that, it'd be a much safer bet to bet that one of the Hogwarts Champions would win, and help both of you.”
Harry chuckled, then, remembering something.
“What's funny?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, it's just that I forgot in the heat of the moment that I'm planning on asking the judges to award me one point apiece no matter how well or badly I do, since I didn't want to be in this thing in the first place. The rules say I have to do my best, they don't say I have to win, or even that I have to try to win, just that I do my best.”
“Wouldn't asking for low scores on purpose be considered throwing the Tournament?” Hermione asked.
“No, I went over this with Ms. Pennyroyal. The points ultimately don't matter, they just determine the order the contestants take when going into the last Task. Someone who goes into the last Task in last place apparently stands just as much a chance of winning it as everyone else. It's a race of some kind, with obstacles, and there's a prize at the end. I can't hang back deliberately, but I don't need points.”
“Yes,” Luna said, “the points system was added a century after the first Tournament, and was never programmed into the Goblet. Daddy got me a book about the Tournament for Yule this year.”
“Ha!” Ron said. “Bagman's going to wet himself when Harry tells the judges to give him one point apiece!”
“Well, I could still win, this just makes it a little less likely. But yeah, he'll probably do his nut.”
“I wonder where Crouch is?” Hermione wondered.
Harry noticed Bagman leaving the pub; the Goblins followed after him, looking upset.
“Maybe Percy’s poisoning him,” said Ron. “Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he’ll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”
Hermione gave Ron a don’t-joke-about-things-like-that look, and said, “Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch. They’d normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”
“He only claims they're looking for Crouch,” Luna said.
“Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though,” said Harry. “Maybe they need an interpreter.”
“The Goblin Liason Office will have plenty of those already, Harry,” Luna said.
“Oh, right. Good point.”
“Worrying about poor ’ickle goblins, now, are you?” Ron asked Hermione. “Thinking of starting up S.P.C.G. or something? Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ugly Goblins?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Hermione sarcastically. “Goblins don’t need protection. Haven’t you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?”
“No,” said Harry and Ron together.
“Well, they’re quite capable of dealing with wizards,” said Hermione, taking another sip of butterbeer. “They’re very clever. They’re not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves.”
“Uh-oh,” said Ron, staring at the door.
Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. (The effect of such eye-watering colors was enough to make Harry physically ill at the sight of her.) She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby where Harry, Ron, and Hermione glaring at her as she approached, with Luna ignoring her. Skeeter was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.
“...didn’t seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what’s he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights … what nonsense … he was always a bad liar. Reckon something’s up? Think we should do a bit of digging? ‘Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...’ Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo — we just need to find a story to fit it —”
“Trying to ruin someone else’s life?” said Harry loudly.
“Harry, don't taunt Rita Skeeter,” Luna said. “Come on, let's go get something to eat at Brews and Stews Cafe.”
A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter’s eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.
“Harry!” she said, beaming. “How lovely! Why don’t you come and join — ?”
“I wouldn’t come near you with a ten-foot broomstick,” said Harry furiously. “What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?”
Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows.
“Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my —”
“Who cares if he’s half-giant?” Harry shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with him! He's a big harmless teddy bear of a man!”
The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing. Luna stood up and took Harry's hand, trying to get him to stand up.
Rita Skeeter’s smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, “How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?”
“I'm not giving you the time of day, you twist everything anyone says to you. If I have an interview to give, it'll be with Xeno Lovegood. In fact, Luna, I think I will give your dad an interview about Hagrid. You should send him a letter with your raven when we get back.”
“An excellent idea, Harry. Now let's get away from this woman.”
Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade.
“You horrible woman,” she said, through gritted teeth, “you don’t care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won’t they? Even Ludo Bagman —”
“Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. “I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl … not that it needs it —” she added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.
“Let’s go,” said Hermione, “c’mon, Harry — Ron, Luna …”
“Oh ho there,” Rita said, finally noticing that Harry and Luna were holding hands. “Trouble in paradise? You and Miss Granger break up, did you?”
“Not that it's any of your business, but Hermione and I were never romantically involved. I don't know who you got that load of rubbish from, Skeeter, but Luna is the only girl – the only person at all – that I've been romantically involved with, or wanted to be involved with. I may not be able to sue you for libel from anything you've said so far, but by gods I'm going to find a way to get you back!”
“Oh please, Harry, you're kidding yourself. Not even Dumbledore could stand up to the power of my quill if I set my mind to really going after him. What makes you think you stand a chance, hmm? Anyway, let's not be quarrelsome, Harry. Just tell me all about your love life, and I can make a very flattering article about the boy-who-lived and his, er, unique girlfriend.”
“The only thing I have to say to you, Rita, is 'sod off'!”
He grabbed Luna's hand and they left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table.
“She'll be after both of you next, Hermione, Harry,” Ron said. “With a side order of Luna.”
“Let her try!” Harry and Hermione said in stereo.
“Silly little girl, am I?” Hermione said. “I'll show her! I'll get her back for this! First Harry, then Hagrid!”
“You don’t want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter,” said Ron nervously. “I’m serious, Hermione, she’ll dig up something on you —”
“My parents don’t read the Daily Prophet. She can’t scare me into hiding!” said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all the others could do to keep up with her.
“Yeah, and Sirius doesn't take anything she writes seriously,” Harry said.
“Maybe not, but I've known Mum to believe her before,” Ron said. “Not about Dad, of course, but she doesn't apply the same suspicion to Skeeter writing about others as she does about members of our family.”
Hermione wasn't listening. She said, “And Hagrid isn’t hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!”
“Er, but Luna and I were gonna---”
“We can always come back, Harry. Hagrid is more important,” Luna said, following along as Hermione led them back up to the school.
“I thought you didn't like his teaching?” Ron accused her.
“I don't. But I still like Hagrid.”
They ended up practically running back to the castle, and over to Hagrid’s hut. Hermione started pounding on the door so hard Harry feared she'd knock it over. “Hagrid! Hagrid, that’s enough! We know you’re in there! Nobody who matters cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can’t let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you’re just being —”
The door opened. Hermione said, “About ti — !” and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.
“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly, smiling down at them.
“We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid,” said Hermione in a rather small voice.
“Yes, I surmised as much,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Why don’t you come in?”
“Oh … um … okay,” said Hermione.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna stepped into the cabin; Fang launched himself upon Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fended off Fang and looked around.
Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.
“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry.
Hagrid looked up.
“ ’Lo,” he said in a very hoarse voice.
Dumbledore closed the door and got tea and cakes for everyone with a twiddle or two of his wand. He magicked it all onto the table, and everyone sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, “Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?”
Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, “Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door.”
“Of course we still want to know you!” Harry said, staring at Hagrid. “You don’t think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor,” he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore.
“I have gone temporarily deaf and haven’t any idea what you said, Harry,” said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.
“Er — right,” said Harry sheepishly. “I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we’d care what that — woman — wrote about you?”
“Yes,” Luna said. “And Daddy taught me the Giant language. I'd be fascinated to speak with one sometime, if you know any full-blooded Giants.”
Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.
“Living proof of what I’ve been telling you, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. “I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —”
“Not all of ’em,” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Not all of ’em wan’ me ter stay.”
“Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I’m afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time,” said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles.
“'You can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself,'” Luna quoted.
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. “Quite right, Miss Lovegood. As I was saying, Hagrid, not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven’t had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?”
“Yeh — yeh’re not half-giant!” said Hagrid croakily.
“Hagrid, look what I’ve got for relatives!” Harry said furiously. “Look at the Dursleys!”
“An excellent point,” said Professor Dumbledore. “My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I’m not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery.”
I don't want to know, thought Harry.
“Yes, Hagrid. And Professor Flitwick is part Goblin,” Luna said. “I'm part Fair Folk myself, a changeling child. We're considered quite strange and unusual, you know.”
“Er, right,” Hermione said. She shook her head to clear it. “Come back and teach, Hagrid,” said Hermione quietly, “please come back, we really miss you.”
“Yes,” Luna added. “Your classes are quite interesting. Perhaps slightly too much so, but still, we miss you.”
Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.
Dumbledore stood up. “I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday,” he said. “You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all.”
Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fang’s ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, “Great man, Dumbledore … great man …”
They ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with Hagrid to make sure he was calmed down and reassured. If Luna was disappointed, she showed no sign of it, talking with Hagrid about Giants and other creatures whenever she had the chance. Harry decided he'd make it up to her anyway, at some point. He just didn't know how, yet.
Endnotes: Okay, so there was a scene in chapter 12 where some people jumped when Harry spoke Parseltongue at breakfast, but of course in book 2 he managed to not reveal his Parseltongue ability to the whole school. Rather than assuming the cat is out of the bag after that breakfast scene, I'm going to go with “they thought it was the snake hissing, not Harry, due to their backs being turned,” because if the cat was out of the bag, that would have been a huge deal. Yes, Dumbledore knew, but he's discreet.
As to where Luna would have learned Parseltongue from if she's serious about Harry teaching it to her so she can lock her trunk with Parseltongue passwords: well, she's Luna; who knows where she hears most of the things that come out of her mouth? :)
Protego zygós (pro-tay-go zee-go-s) = A spell headcanon to this series. Protego on its own is of course the shield spell, but the “zygós” part is Greek (modern, I believe, since I used Google Translate) for “Libra” or “scales.”
The way I figure things for unicorns is that unicorns are symbollic of women and girls. They're both beautiful, and men covet them. (Here, the unicorn's horn represents a woman's power, and men tend to want to remove that.) As it is a fact of life that many men are dangerous around things they covet, in this version of the Potterverse, unicorns and witches formed an alliance of mutual protection. Unicorns are, thus, capable of not just determining gender but also capable of determining trustworthiness. So in this version of the Potterverse, someone like Xeno Lovegood could approach a unicorn without making them skittish, because he strikes me as the type of man who respects both unicorns and women. (But nobody knows this yet because the men who might be accepted are operating under the assumption unicorns don't like men.)
The unicorn doesn't know what to make of Harry's gender, but can "smell" that he's trustworthy, so it basically does the unicorn equivalent of shrugging and saying "Eh, I'll take a chance."
