Harry Potter: The Angel of Death C48 (Patreon)

Chapter 48: Hagrid’s First Lesson 

By the time Transfiguration ended, Ron still looked worried.

Harry had hoped Professor McGonagall's dismissal of Professor Trelawney's death omen would be enough to calm him down, but no, Ron still had the death omen on the back of his mind. 

They left the classroom with the rest of the Gryffindors and made their way toward the Great Hall for lunch. The corridors were crowded with students moving between lessons, comparing first impressions of new subjects, complaining about homework already assigned, and whispering whenever Harry passed.

Harry ignored them as usual.  Ron kept glancing at him as if expecting Death to leap out from behind a suit of armor, or he would glare at any student who got too close to Harry as if he was expecting them to try to kill him right there. By the time they reached the Great Hall, Hermione looked thoroughly fed up with him.

They sat near the end of the Gryffindor table, a little apart from the others. It was not completely private, but at least there were fewer people close enough to listen.

"Ron," Hermione said, pushing a dish of stew toward him, "cheer up. You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate, picked up his spoon, then stopped before taking a bite.

"Yeah, I heard what she said."

"Then stop looking like Harry's about to keel over."

Ron frowned.

"Someone's tried to kill him every year since we started Hogwarts. Why would this year be different?"

Hermione opened her mouth. Harry opened his. Both of them closed their mouths again, because, really, what could either of them say to that? Ron was not wrong.

First year had involved Voldemort sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head while trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and murder Harry in the process. Second year had involved a giant basilisk and a piece of Voldemort trying to come back from the dead- well, sort of dead.

Harry knew, logically, that the events that were supposed to happen this year would not happen. Sirius was free. There were no Dementors prowling the school grounds, Peter Pettigrew was not pretending to be Ron's rat, and the traitorous little bastard was dead-dead. Harry had seen the body and buried what remained. Well, the ashes. His parents left very little of him intact. 

Anyways, by all rights, this year should have been quiet and without any drama, but unfortunately, he was still Harry Potter and Fate loves to make things difficult for him. 

Not even a full day in Hogwarts and he got a quest. Something or someone was going to be stolen from him this year if he was not careful. But once he calmed down and thought things through more clearly, his worry eased since there was a silver lining: something stolen could be recovered. 

You just had to find the thief. 

Ron was still staring down at his stew, and Hermione was watching Harry with that attentive, worried look of hers, telling him to do something.

Harry decided the conversation away from the omen. 

"So," he said lightly, "I suppose Hermione has finally found a class she isn't going to be good at."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Ron looked up, momentarily distracted from his gloom.

"Oh, yeah. Professor Trelawney said she didn't have the right aura for Divination."

School was Hermione's greatest pride and joy, and so, the easiest way to truly annoy her. 

Harry leaned back slightly and watched the train wreck; once these two started, they would not stop until one of them stormed off. Normally Harry would not want to be anywhere near these two once they started arguing, but this was the fastest way to get Ron to forget about the omen and focus on something else. 

Plus, he has a feeling it’s not going to be long, they have classes in the afternoon and Hermione Granger would rather eat her own foot than miss class- the time-turner, Harry remembered. Hermione has that, so she can waste as much time as she feels like and will still be in time for class.

Oh, dear, Harry thought. He might have made a mistake. 

"I do not have the right aura?"

"That's what she said." Ron nodded. Just as Harry predicted, Trelawney’s death omens were put aside in favor of poking Hermione. 

Hermione slammed her books down on the table so hard that several bits of food jumped from nearby plates. A pea landed in Ron's pumpkin juice.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, then I am not interested!"

Several nearby Gryffindors turned to look at her. 

"The entire class is absolute nonsense. Complete rubbish. She spent most of the lesson 

"She did predict Harry's death." Ron defended. 

"She did not predict Harry's death. She frightened half the class by being theatrical."

Harry raised a finger.

"To be fair, she said Death was haunting me. That's a little different from predicting my death."

Hermione turned her glare on him.

"Stay out of this."

Harry lowered his finger.

"Yes, ma'am."

Hermione snatched up her bag.

"I have better things to do than listen to people defend that ridiculous subject. I need to write an essay for my next Arithmancy class."

"So you are just gonna leave?" Ron asked.

Hermione gave him a look that could have curdled milk, then turned and strode out of the Great Hall.

Ron watched her go with a frown.

"What's she even talking about?" Ron gestured after Hermione. "She hasn't even been to Arithmancy yet. Divination was our first class of the year."

Harry stared at him and shrugged. 

Only Hermione Granger would use time travel for extra studying; anyone else would put it to far more practical uses, like catching up on sleep, sneaking a look at exams, or pulling off a few pranks.

"Dunno," Harry said.

"She was acting weird."

"Hermione? Weird? Never." Harry exaggerated. 

Ron gave him a look.

"Come on.” Harry got up. “We should get ready."

"For what?"

"Our first ever Care of Magical Creatures class."

That brightened Ron's expression a little.

"Hagrid's class."

"Hagrid's class," Harry confirmed.

Ron stood, gathering his bag.

"Think he'll bring something dangerous?"

Harry considered Hagrid's general definition of harmless. He had once hatched a dragon in his wooden hut and called a giant three-headed dog Fluffy.

"Almost certainly."

Ron grinned.

"Brilliant."

Harry laughed, and together they left the Great Hall and made their way down the sloping lawns toward Hagrid’s hut.

The sky above Hogwarts was a pale, washed-out grey; still, it did not look like it was going to rain, and for Scotland, Harry considered that practically excellent weather.

Ron walked beside him with his bag slung over one shoulder, looking far more cheerful now that they were going to Hagrid’s first lesson. The thought of dangerous magical creatures had apparently done more for his mood than all of Hermione’s arguments against Divination.

Hermione, meanwhile, was not with them.

Harry suspected she had already gone to Ancient Runes, or possibly had already been to Ancient Runes, depending on how one was meant to discuss the schedule of someone who owned a magical time watch. He decided not to think about it too hard. Time travel was one of those subjects that made his head hurt. 

Since electives overlap, each one is scheduled twice on different days of the week, allowing students to choose whichever elective they prefer without conflict. Unless, of course, you are Hermione and decide to take them all—in which case you would need to literally time travel to attend every class. His first class in Ancient Runes won't be until later in the week, and if he is lucky, he could get Hermione to lend him her notes.

Ahead of them, several Slytherins were also making their way toward the edge of the forest. 

Harry spotted Draco Malfoy walking near the front of the group, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, with Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott nearby. Last year, Malfoy had felt more like a constant villain in Harry’s life than even Voldemort. Voldemort at least had the decency to appear only once a year or so to try to kill him. Malfoy, on the other hand, tried to ruin his day on a nearly daily basis.

Now, though, Harry felt strangely indifferent.

He still had a bone to pick with Lucius Malfoy. Several bones, actually, and one day, Harry would settle that score properly.

But Draco?

Draco just seemed small.

Sure, he was an irritating, spoiled brat—sometimes clever in the most annoying ways—but at the end of the day, Draco was still just a kid.

Somewhere over the summer, Harry had moved on from their old rivalry without noticing it. Malfoy could still irritate him, but he no longer felt like someone Harry needed to defeat. He was just a boy repeating his father’s words, and Harry felt too old for that kind of schoolyard rivalry. Of course, if Malfoy poked him, he would still return the favor. 

Hagrid was waiting near his hut, looking nervous, and happier than Harry had ever seen him.

"Come on, then!" he called, waving one massive hand. "This way! Got summat special fer yer first lesson!"

The class followed him toward a fenced paddock near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid kept glancing back at them, grinning through his beard, clearly trying very hard to look professional and not simply burst with excitement.

Harry smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up when their eyes met. He really wanted this lesson to go well.

Once everyone had gathered near the fence, Hagrid clapped his hands together.

"Right, gather round! Everyone by the fence, that’s it. Make sure yeh can all see. Now, first thing, open yer books—"

"How?" Malfoy asked coldly.

Hagrid blinked.

"What?"

"The books," Malfoy said, holding up his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which was bound tightly with a rope. "How are we supposed to open them?"

Several students muttered in agreement, and Hagrid looked genuinely surprised.

"Yeh mean none o’ yeh figured it out?"

Nobody answered.

"Oh." Hagrid cleared his throat. "Right. Well, yeh stroke the spine. Like this."

He took a copy, ran one thick finger along the spine, and the book immediately relaxed, falling open like a perfectly ordinary textbook.

Malfoy stared at him, and his lip curled.

"Oh, how silly we’ve been," he said loudly. "We should have stroked them. Why didn’t we guess?"

Harry almost smiled. Malfoy could be funny at times, but when he saw Hagrid's face, all amusement vanished. 

That decided it. If Malfoy wanted attention, Harry could give him attention. More importantly, he could pull it away from Hagrid.

"Lack of skill or wits, maybe both," Harry said with a shrug. "Which is it, Malfoy?"

Malfoy’s head snapped toward him.

"Shut up, Potter. You couldn’t open the book either."

"I could, actually."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"I asked the clerk at the store how to open it." Harry smiled innocently.

A beat of silence followed. 

Hermione, who had appeared beside them without Harry noticing, stared at him in horror.

"How did I not think of that?" she muttered, looking genuinely disappointed in herself. Several other students had similar expressions.

Ron elbowed Harry.

"Could’ve shared that, mate." 

"You didn’t ask."

Ron stared at him and Harry blinked innocently back. In truth, he had found Ron’s battles with the book hilarious. Especially the time the book had chased him under his bed.

Damn it, he thought. Crowley had rubbed off on him far too much. When had he become this twisted?

"Right then," Hagrid said quickly, taking advantage of the shift in attention. "Now that we’ve got that sorted, today we’ll be workin’ with hippogriffs."

Hagrid went into the forest and returned minutes later with several hippogriffs.  Harry had seen many magical creatures before, but hippogriffs were something else entirely.

They were beautiful.

Proud, sharp-eyed creatures with the heads, wings, and forelegs of giant eagles, and the bodies and hindquarters of horses. Their feathers shimmered in shades of storm-cloud grey, chestnut, bronze, and creamy white, and there was something very intelligent in the way they watched the students.

Hagrid explained the rules carefully: respect them, bow first, wait for them to bow back, do not insult them, do not treat them like pets, and do not make sudden moves. Harry listened carefully, and so did most of the class.

Malfoy made a few muttered comments about oafs teaching lessons and his father hearing about it, but Harry ignored him for the moment. Hagrid was too focused on getting through the explanation to notice, and Harry preferred it that way.

When Hagrid asked for a volunteer, Harry raised his hand.

"I’ll go."

Hagrid beamed.

"Knew yeh would, Harry."

Ron looked worried but Hermione placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him before he could speak. She shot him a look, and Ron muttered something under his breath.

Harry stepped forward toward the grey hippogriff Hagrid introduced as Buckbeak. He stopped several feet away, lowered his eyes just enough not to stare rudely, and bowed.

For several long seconds nothing happened, then Buckbeak bent his front legs and bowed back.

Hagrid let out a relieved noise that was almost a sob.

"Well done, Harry! Well done!"

Harry approached carefully and ran a hand over Buckbeak’s feathers. They were smoother than he expected, warm beneath his palm, and Buckbeak gave a low, pleased sound.

Then Hagrid helped him onto the hippogriff’s back. Flying on Buckbeak felt different from riding a broom or using his own wings but it was still brilliant. The wind struck Harry’s face as they rose over the forest, and he laughed. When Buckbeak landed again, Harry slid down with a grin.

Hagrid looked as though he might cry from pride.

After that, the rest of the class relaxed. Several students tried approaching different hippogriffs, and while not everyone managed it on the first attempt, the lesson was going well.

Too well, perhaps.

Harry kept one eye on Malfoy, waiting for him to do something stupid, and sure enough, Malfoy eventually approached Buckbeak. To his credit, he bowed properly at first, and Buckbeak bowed back. For one brief, miraculous moment, Harry thought Draco might actually manage not to ruin the lesson.

Then Malfoy began patting Buckbeak’s neck with growing confidence.

"Yes," Malfoy said loudly, clearly enjoying the attention, "you’re not dangerous at all, are you? You ugly brute."

Buckbeak went rigid, and Harry moved before he thought.

He crossed the distance in a rush, grabbed the back of Malfoy’s robes, and hauled him backward just as Buckbeak reared.

"What are you—"

Malfoy tried to wrench himself free, but Harry was stronger, and compared to him, Draco might as well have been a rag doll.

Malfoy saw Buckbeak from the corner of his eye and all the color drained from his face.

The hippogriff lunged, talons slashing through the air where Malfoy had been standing only a heartbeat earlier. Harry dragged him back again, keeping himself between Malfoy and the fence while avoiding another strike.

Students screamed and ran away from the other hippogriffs, afraid they would also go wild and attack them. 

Hagrid bellowed, "Buckbeak!"

The hippogriff lunged again, fury bright in his eyes. Harry pulled Malfoy back another step, then another, until Hagrid finally reached Buckbeak and seized the chain.

It took all of Hagrid’s strength to pull the enraged creature away. Buckbeak fought him for several seconds, trying to reach Malfoy, but Hagrid held firm, speaking low and soothing until the hippogriff finally stopped lunging.

Only then did Harry release Draco.

"Seriously, Malfoy?" Harry snapped. "Did you have to offend the only magical beast as vain as you?"

Malfoy opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was still shaking.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Pansy rushed to his side, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and several other Slytherins.

Malfoy straightened at once, trying to recover some dignity.

"I’m fine." His voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat and glared at Harry as though Harry had personally arranged the entire situation to embarrass him.

"That was bloody amazing, mate!" Seamus said, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Dean clapped him on the back.

"You’re a hero, Harry!"

Several Gryffindors immediately joined in, congratulating him for his bravery and quick thinking.

"You saved Malfoy’s life!" Neville said, sounding awed.

"He did not save my life!" Malfoy snapped.

Daphne Greengrass, who had been watching the whole thing with a thoughtful expression, spoke before any of the Slytherins could agree with him.

"He might have." Several of her housemates turned toward her, conflicted and offended. "If the hippogriff had struck Malfoy in the head or chest, he might have been killed."

Malfoy went pale again for a moment before regaining his bravado and lifting his chin. 

"That thing should be put down."

Harry’s expression cooled.

"No. You should have listened."

Malfoy glared at him, and Harry stared at him flatly. 

Theodore Nott stepped forward.

"They should fire that oaf straight away."

"It was Malfoy’s fault," Harry said flatly. "Hagrid told us not to insult them. Everyone heard him. Had Malfoy not been an absolute idiot, he would have been fine. Might have even gotten to ride Buckbeak."

The Gryffindors murmured agreement, some of the Slytherins looked annoyed, but a few looked uncertain on which side to take.

Hagrid returned then, looking pale beneath his beard and deeply shaken.

"Class dismissed," he said hoarsely. "That’s enough fer today."

Harry’s chest tightened. The lesson had gone well until Malfoy decided to be an idiot. Still, all things considered, it could have been worse. Much worse. At least no one was bleeding this time.

They began walking back toward the castle in scattered groups. Ron stayed close to Harry, his earlier cheerfulness completely gone.

After several minutes, Harry noticed the look on his face.

"What’s up, Ron?"

Ron shot him a nasty look.

"Did you have to risk your life for Malfoy?"

Hermione sighed.

"Ron, I know you hate Malfoy, but—"

"It’s not that!" Ron cut her off, looking genuinely upset. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

"Death is haunting Harry."

Hermione stopped walking.

"Again with that?"

Ron threw up his hands.

"You saw what just happened!"

"I saw Harry pull Malfoy away from an angry hippogriff because Malfoy was being an idiot."

"Exactly!"

"That is not proof of any prophetic nonsense. Divination can not even be considered a true branch of magic."

Ron stared at her as though she had lost her mind.

"We live in a magical castle. One of our professors is a ghost. We can do practically anything with magic as long as we know the spell. You can turn a matchstick into a needle, vanish objects, make feathers fly, and brew potions that regrow bones, but seeing the future is where you draw the line?"

Hermione lifted her chin.

"Those things have explanations." She said. "There is magical theory behind ghosts. Magical theory behind Transfiguration. Magical theory behind Charms, Potions, wards, enchantments, everything. They can be explained, studied, tested, repeated, and understood."

Her voice left no room for argument.

"Divination is just guesswork."

Ron looked offended on behalf of the entire subject.

"It is not guesswork if it comes true."

"If someone says a student will die every year for enough years, eventually they may be right. That is not prophecy, Ron. That is probability."

"Probability—"

Ron looked ready to explode.

Harry looked between them. Hermione had that determined glint in her eyes and Ron had that stubborn set to his jaw.

Nope.

Harry quietly took two steps to the side, then three. 

Neither of them noticed.

By the time Ron began arguing that Hermione could not dismiss an entire branch of magic just because she did not like Professor Trelawney, and Hermione began explaining the difference between verifiable magic and vague interpretation, Harry had already walked several paces ahead.

He loved his friends, he really did, but when Ron and Hermione got like this, the smartest thing a person could do was avoid standing between them. Especially when he technically started it; if they join forced and turned against him, he would be screwed. 

He glanced back once, saw them still arguing, and continued toward the castle.