G. Lippert - James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

Rose began to explain what had happened the day before, beginning with their interview with the Headmaster. As the story progressed, James and Ralph joined in, adding their own insights and corrections, so that by the time they were explaining how the portraits came back to life and the painting of Snape warned them to flee, all three of them were talking at once. Finally, they finished the account and fell silent, turning to view Hagrid's response.

The half-giant sat in his huge old chair by the fire, a distant, tense look on his face. He was looking in the direction of the three students but not directly at any of them. James had been confident that Hagrid would simply dismiss the tale as wild exaggeration. He'd tell them that what they'd seen in the Mirror had just been small-time shenanigans, engaged by men who refused to accept the fact that they'd long since lost the war. James knew from his father that while Hagrid may not always love the leaders of Hogwarts, he was loyal to the core. He'd defend Merlin, and assure them that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. That was partly why James had suggested they come out to the hut to talk to the big man. Now, as Hagrid sat in silence with that strange, tense look on his face, James wondered if it had been such a good idea after all.

Suddenly, the teapot began to shriek, causing everyone in the room to jump. Hagrid shook himself, and then reached to pull it from the hook. He carried it to the table and clanked it onto a trivet.

"Er," James said, prodding, "what do you think, Hagrid?"

Hagrid glanced at him, wiping his hands on a huge towel. "Well, it's a bit difficult, innit? Who's to say? Could've been anythin', I s'pose. The Headmaster, he's got some terrible powerful devices an' all. Ol' Professor Snape's portrait was pro'lly right tellin' yeh to stay well away."

"But Rose is saying she thinks it was Merlin that showed up by Voldemort's grave," James clarified, gesturing at his cousin. "Tell her she's daft if she thinks that! I mean, he's the Headmaster, Hagrid!"

China clattered as Hagrid gathered saucers and cups, returning to the table with his arms full. "Right yeh are, James. He is the Headmaster, an' all I can say's if he did show up in that Mirror, talkin' to whoever it was yeh saw, then he musta had plenty good reason to."

"But it couldn't have been him!" James insisted, looking to Ralph for support. "I mean, the thing in the swirling robe was obviously ten kinds of evil, and that bloke that showed up first had to have been an old Death Eater. I mean, it was Voldemort's ruddy grave site!"

"I'd appreciate it if yeh didn't say that name at my table, James," Hagrid said gently, setting a cup and saucer in front of him. His hands trembled slightly. "I know the battle's long over, but old habits die hard, yeh unnerstand."

Rose stirred in her seat. "Hagrid, do you think it could've been Merlin we saw?"

Hagrid poured steaming water into the cups before he answered. Finally, he settled himself onto one of the chairs, producing a strained creak. He looked hard at Rose, and then stirred his tea with surprising delicacy.

"They say that the Headmaster's a good man with a garden," Hagrid said, as if changing the subject. "I don't do a whole lot of readin' myself o' course, but everyone knows that Merlin the Great was a keen one for nature and plants and such. I been hearin' stories about how he spoke to the birds an' the trees since I was a wee lad. So when he came on as Headmaster early this summer, I thought I'd go up an' make my acquaintance. I invited him to come down to the hut so I could show 'im my own little garden. Next day, sure enough, he takes me up on the offer. He traipses all over the garden, not sayin' the slightest thing. He just walks up and down, in and out, tapping that big staff o' his on my pumpkins and squashes and cabbages. Finally, he looks up, out toward the Forest. I looks too, 'cause there's something rising up out of the trees."

Hagrid still had the teaspoon in his huge hand. Gently, he set it next to his saucer. He looked at James, Ralph, and Rose one by one. "It was a Djinn. Like a raven, but bigger; black as night with glowing red eyes I could see from where I stood. I'd never actually seen one before, but I knew of 'em. Dark and mysterious creatures, they are; portents, according to legend. Very reclusive. I'd always been told they only come out at night, and if yeh see one on your path, it's a sure sign to turn right back 'round and run home, for the Djinn is s'posed to be a warning of horrible danger for those yeh love. Well, when I saw that black creature rise up out of the trees, I was about to call out to the Headmaster. But I knew he'd already seen it, an' he didn't seem any too worried about it. So I just watched. That black bird flew right over, wheeling once above the garden an' coming to land right on top of one of my pumpkins, right there next to the Headmaster. An' Merlin, he just watches it the whole time. The strangest thing was the way the two of 'em looked at each other. They didn't make any sounds, but it seemed to me plain as day that they was talking to each other somehow. After 'bout a minute, that Djinn looks over at me in that funny way that birds do, with their heads turned aside so one eye is pointing right at yeh. That bright red eye stared me right down, an' it was all I could do not to heave a rock at it like I was a scared kid."

Hagrid looked imploringly at the three students at his table. "I loves magical creatures," he declared. "Dragons to Skrewts. Yeh lot know that s'well as anyone! I teach Care of Magical Creatures, fer goodness sakes. But that's the way that 'orrible bird made me feel. That glowing red eye just looked at me, an' all I wanted was to put it out, make it so that it'd never look at anyone else ever again. It sent chills down me. Still does."

Hagrid stopped and finally took a sip of his tea. He cleared his throat and went on. "Finally, the thing took to flight again, flapping its great, greasy black wings. It flew back to the Forest and disappeared. The Headmaster watched it go, an' then he walked back over to me, still tapping his staff on the ground. He gets next to me an' turns back to the pumpkin patch, looking out over at the west corner. 'You've been having a dead spell in that corner,' he says to me. Well, it's true an' no denyin'. That west corner hasn't raised more'n thorns and thistle for five, six years. 'So I have,' I says to 'im. He looks me in the eye an' says, 'There's a fox who died with all her young, buried in her den under that corner of your garden, Mr. Hagrid. The dead spell arises from their bones, crying for a morning that'll never come. Dig them up, rebury them in the Forest, and sprinkle the earth with Sorrowshot powder. Professor Heretofore can provide some, with my compliments. That will end your trouble.'"

Rose's mouth was turned down in a grimace of dismay. "Did you do it, Hagrid?"

Hagrid glanced up at her, raising his eyebrows. "Well, o' course I did! Found them bones and no mistake! Did just as the Headmaster said, right down to the Sorrowshot powder. An' you can see plain as day that it did the trick. That corner has my biggest Fiendscorn squash in it. A fine green Tigerstripe variety. You've seen it, o' course. But the point is…"

Hagrid stopped again and fiddled nervously with his teacup and saucer. He took another quick sip, as if to silence himself.

"What, Hagrid?" Ralph asked, exasperated. "What's the point?"

Hagrid looked at him, as if struggling with whether to speak. Finally, he leaned slightly over the table and said in a low voice, "The point is it seems pretty plain to me that the Djinn told the Headmaster about that dead fox an' 'er young! The point is, not only are all the old stories true about Merlin the Great talkin' to the trees and the birds, he even talks to the mystical creature-birds of the night! If that great black bird had shown its red eyes in my presence any other time, I'd have turned on my heel an' run! But Merlin, he watches the thing fly over almost as if he called it, almost as if he knows it by its ruddy first name!"