Tea with Hagrid

Madam Pomfrey managed to get rid of Celena's flowery appearance fairly quickly. The rest of the first week of term wasn't quite that exciting. The students were much more respectful, she thought, than they could be expected to be to such a young and inexperienced teacher. Celena's relation to Nicholas Flamel, the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, played a part in that of course. Many of the students were familiar with "Costello Concoctions", the older ones might have even seen her behind the counter a few summers ago. Her classes were interesting – she tried to leave most of the theoretical part for homework (which, she admitted, placed a rather large load on her students), and during her lessons she gave occasional fun treats that weren't included in the study program.

On her third day as a Hogwarts teacher, she gave a detention for the very first time, an act she hoped to put off longer; there was no choice, though. A third-year Hufflepuff boy thought it would be fun to make his classmate's cauldron explode, and believed his involvement would go unnoticed if he pointed his wand from under his desk and muttered the incantation quietly. It was lucky that the Shrinking Solution they were making wasn't ready yet, because the bubbling liquid spluttered the walls, floor, ceiling and most of the students and their possessions. No real damage was done, but the guilty Hufflepuff student was made to scrub the mess off all by himself, without using magic, which took most of the evening and left Argus Filch, the caretaker, absolutely delighted.

She had no post all week, since Remus Lupin's and her parents' short notes, but on Friday afternoon two owls arrived, tapping their beaks impatiently on the window of her office, and holding a large parcel between them. The parcel contained a large quantity of homemade pies and a few jars of her mother's excellent fudge. There was also a letter from her parents, written by her father, telling nothing but that everything was as usual at home, and asking her about all the details they could possibly think of.

For a long minute, she gazed out of her window, vaguely hoping to see another owl, a handsome tawny named Wilbert that belonged to her fiancé, Timothy. But there was no sign of Wilbert on the clear horizon. Why hasn't he written? She knew Timothy was very busy at the moment with the perspectives of his new job at the regulation and control of cauldron-making industry, and that was why she resolved not to pester him with owls every day. She expected him to send her a word that day, though, inquiring how her first week in Hogwarts had gone, and possibly attempting to arrange the next time they meet, for exciting discussions of wedding preparations – the guests, the dress, the cake, the musicians and the party.

She and Timothy met when she was fresh out of Beauxbatons Academy. With only vague plans as to what she should do next, she was spending time with her parents, helping them at "Costello Concoctions". Brewing potions was natural and easy for her, so she hummed merrily on one rainy day, when the shop was empty, without the promise of too many customers. She prepared for long, undisturbed hours of counting supplies, balancing books, and replenishing stocks, when the doorbell suddenly rang and a tall, handsome young wizard entered, his traveling cloak dripping water all over the floor. He threw back the hood of his cloak and gave her a charming smile that made her feel as though her knees were made of marshmallow, soft and about to bend any moment. She was determined not to let him notice, though. She steadied herself against the counter and tried to sound businesslike and efficient as she said:

- How can I help you, young man?
- I came to ask a few questions about the cauldrons you use here in your shop, - he replied. He had a very rich, very male voice that made her feel as though her heart was beating in her throat. – But not before you tell me your name, my lady!

… Timothy came every day of that week, making more and more notes about cauldrons on a clipboard he always carried with him. He charmed Celena and her parents, and when his pretexts for visiting ran out, he continued coming anyway. Celena, with her beauty – which wasn't obscured even in Beauxbatons by the constant presence of Fleur, a dazzling part-Veela, near her – was used to male attention, but no one courted her as persistently and artistically as Timothy had. He proposed to her several times, but she felt something was stopping her. I'm too young; she tried to explain, even though she had to privately admit to herself this wasn't the whole story, maybe not even the most significant part of it – what was it, then? Why did she decline the proposal of a man who took hold of her thoughts from the moment she saw him? She didn't have a clear answer. Only during the summer before she started her job in Hogwarts, she accepted Timothy's proposal and was now engaged to be married to him. The wedding was supposed to be held next summer. Why didn't he write?

Celena placed the letter from her parents on top of the stack of essays she was supposed to check and rate that weekend. She decided to leave both the essays and the letter for tomorrow morning, and now go and visit Hagrid. She could see the light in his cabin through her window.
A magnificent sunset colored the sky gold and scarlet while she walked across the grounds towards the crude, large cabin where Hagrid lived. It was a warm evening for the season, but she took her cloak just in case she would stay out for a long time and it would get chilly as night falls.

- C'min, c'min, - said Hagrid after he peered through the half-open door to see who this was. He looked clearly pleased to see her, which she was rather relieved to see, as she got no invitation.
Everything in Hagrid's cabin seemed about twice the size it would be for a normal man. The quilt-covered bed could accommodate at least three people. A bucket-sized cup stood on the vast wooden desk, and Hagrid's enormous boots, wide and deep enough for a child to hide in, stood by the door. His boarhound, Fang, was looking strangely small here, even though he was almost equal to Celena in height when he stood on his hind legs in an attempt to lick her face.
Celena knew, of course, that Hagrid had giant blood – his mother was none other than the fearsome giantess Fridwulfa, who went into hiding many years ago. She didn't mind the chair she sat on was so high for her that her feet were actually dangling from it, unable to touch the ground – in fact, she felt almost the same way whenever she visited Madame Maxime's office in Beauxbatons…

- Oh! – she exclaimed, glancing at the huge, winged, sharp-beaked grey creature curled up on a rug in front of the fire and looking upon her with one of his fierce, orange eyes. Celena, getting a grip on herself and remembering what she was supposed to do, gave a small bow, more like a nod. The creature returned it and seemed satisfied.
- Uncle Remus told me you keep a Hippogriff here, - Celena told. Hagrid beamed.
- Tha's Buckbeak, - he said, - we've bin tergether fer years. 'Course, he stayed with Sirius Black fer a while… until…

There was a moment when none of them could think of anything else to say. Celena never had the chance to meet Sirius Black, but she, of course, knew all about one of her uncle's best friends, unjustly accused of mass murder, imprisoned in Azkaban for many years, forced into hiding and eventually killed by one of Voldemort's most faithful supporters…

- My mother sent sweets, Hagrid, look, - she said finally, showing him the parcel she got earlier. – Only it's boring to eat them alone. Why don't you make tea and we try some of these?
- Lookin' good, - Hagrid said eagerly and busied himself with the kettle. When Celena was given a mug of boiling tea she could drown herself in if she tried really hard, she took a strawberry-jam filled tart and bit into it. It was fresh-made and delicious. Hagrid swallowed his in one mighty bite and reached for another one.

- So, how was yer firs' week as a teacher? – He asked through a mouthful of tart. Celena thought of the cauldronful of half-brewed Shrinking Solution smeared all over the classroom, of her flowery appearance after the application of Beauty Balm, of Snape's snide remarks and of being interrogated non-stop about being a great-great-great granddaughter of Nicholas Flamel.
- It was as fine as I could expect, I guess, - she finally said, smiling brightly. – What about you, Hagrid? Is it difficult, being Head of House?

- Well, I always got along fine with them Gryffindors, - said Hagrid thickly, for her just took another pie from the pile in front of him, - my old House, ye see. But it's one hell of a responsibility, ye have ter sort all sorts o' problems an' make decisions, an' if anyone gets in trouble with one of the teachers they get sent straight ter me an' I'm supposed ter decide what next… what with classes an' bein' gamekeeper, there's quite enough ter be goin' on with, as ye can imagine. But this is somethin' I've dreamed of fer years.

- Have you considered moving into the castle and finding someone else for the gamekeeping duties? – Celena asked.
- Nah, nobody's up ter the job, - Hagrid waved an enormous hand in dismissal, - Charlie Weasley mighta done it, but he's too busy righ' now, with…
He stopped abruptly, and the part of his face that wasn't covered by tangled black beard or hair reddened slightly. Celena pretended to not have noticed, although it confirmed something she had been thinking about all week, ever since she received that note from Uncle Remus. She continued talking as if she didn't hear anything interesting.
- We didn't have houses in Beauxbatons, you know, - she said, - it spared a good deal of rivalry and competition that exists between the different Houses here, and instead we could dedicate ourselves to gaining knowledge and mastering our magical skills… not that it's not an interesting tradition, the Sorting and everything. But I think the pupils whose names are down to Ravenclaw for example are crafted more or less of the same material anyway, it's all about intelligence and determination…
- I think ye'd be in Ravenclaw if ye went ter Hogwarts, - observed Hagrid, drinking deeply from his mug of tea. – They're like yeh, all intelligent an' serious, trust their brains more'n anythin' else.
- I like the Ravenclaws. – Celena agreed, nodding. – I've noticed it's them who try the hardest and take classes more seriously. I just don't understand what's the reason of pairing their classes with the Hufflepuffs, they don't get along really well… and Gryffindor and Slytherin students clearly dislike each other, and they're always paired up too.
- I think 'tis part o' the strategy o' bringin' the different Houses closer. Create bonds, more like… have them make friends with each other… pity it's not workin'.

Both of them pondered this while they ate and drank some more. And then, all of a sudden, Celena asked:
- Hagrid, why does Professor Snape dislike me so much?
Hagrid choked on his tea, then chuckled.
- What's so funny? – Celena demanded.
- Hasn' bin nice ter anyone, s'long as I know him, now, has he? I remember Snape as a kid, lonely an' broodin', up his neck in the Dark Arts. Talented, no doubt 'bout that, but a nasty little piece o' work all the same.
- What's he got with me, though? – Celena frowned. – He ignored me most of the time and I'm fine with that, but sometimes he tries to make me look bad in front of my students. It's clear he was against my appointment in the first place. And he always favors the Slytherins.
- Not any fairer than nice, - said Hagrid. – Yeah, I s'pose he thought yeh're too young ter teach. An' he sees yeh do things differently than he used to do – givin' everyone a chance and encouragin' everyone – an' people like it, an' it irritates him. I know he thinks tha's a bad move.
- Professor Snape underestimates me. – Celena said. – I know more than he thinks about Potions.
- With a family like yours, how could yeh not? Don't mind Snape an' go on with yer business. Besides, he's bin in bad spirits fer another reason as well… they had a disagreement with Professor McGonagall.

There was a look in Hagrid's eyes that stated only too clearly he is dying to tell more, but is waiting to be persuaded.
- Please, go ahead, Hagrid. – Celena encouraged him. – I won't tell anybody, I promise.
She didn't say anything else, but privately thought it might have something to do with what her uncle and another member of the Order, Fleur's brother-in-law Charlie Weasley, were up to in the past weeks. She was very eager to know. And Hagrid cracked.
- Oh, all righ'. I'll show yeh. Let's go.