Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 13

The Special Project

"Hagrid!" exclaimed Harry, stepping towards his friend. He nearly threw his arms round him he was so pleased to see him, but at the last moment he felt awkward, so he stepped back again and stuck his hands in his robe pockets instead. "It's so good to see you! I was starting to think you weren't coming back at all!"

"It jus' took a bit longer'n I expected, tha's all," replied Hagrid, beaming down at him. "What d'yeh say we take some o' these trees out to my cabin, an' I'll brew us a nice cup o' tea?"

So Harry tailed along behind, trying to look like he was helping, as Hagrid dragged two of the gigantic Christmas trees out of the hall, one in each hand, and across the grounds to his cabin. Hagrid pulled the trees round to the back of his hut and laid them down on the far side of pumpkin patch nearest to the Forest. Harry saw that Hagrid's large, battered suitcase was stood to one side of his front door, and lying down next to it was Fang, Hagrid's boarhound. Fang leapt up and bounded over as he saw them approach, his tail wagging hard. Harry stepped behind Hagrid again to avoid Fang's overenthusiastic greeting.

"Down, Fang. Down, tha's a good boy," said Hagrid, half-patting, half-wrestling the dog back down to the ground.

"Have you only just got back then, Hagrid?" he asked.

"Yeah, jus' a few minutes ago. I stopped by the castle to let Dumbledore know I'm here, an' then I saw yeh. Really glad to be home I am."

Hagrid opened the door, picked up his case and went in, Harry following closely on his heels. He reached for a lantern hanging just inside the door, lit it and lifted it up to look around.

"Looks like those bloomin' house elves have been meddlin' again," he growled, gazing round at the clean, tidy room. "I told 'em before, I 'ave - I like things my own way."

Harry smiled to himself. He wasn't sure if Professor Dumbledore would tell Hagrid about Sirius staying there or not, so he made no comment. After all, Hagrid was not known for being the soul of discretion. Hagrid set to making a fire, and Harry filled the kettle in readiness. In no time the cabin was filled with the radiant warmth of the flames and the kettle was boiling.

Hagrid handed Harry a mug of steaming tea and settled himself down in the armchair next to the fire with a contented sigh. Harry found it quite strange to think that the last person to sit in that chair had been his godfather; it was almost like the hut was no longer entirely Hagrid's.

"So 'ow're yeh doin', Harry?" asked Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes glinting in the firelight. "Yeh recovered alrigh' from what 'appened las' term?"

"I was doing okay until the Daily Prophet thing a few weeks ago," replied Harry grimly. "Up to then I'd just about got over the nightmares and everything. Now I just want to crawl into a hole away from everyone again."

"What Daily Prophet thing?" asked Hagrid curiously.

Harry sighed deeply and proceeded to tell Hagrid the whole story about meeting Cho Chang in Hogsmeade, the photograph and the subsequent news story and hate mail. As he listened, Hagrid's bushy eyebrows drew closer together and the glint in his eyes hardened.

"So now everyone thinks I killed Cedric so I could go out with Cho," said Harry miserably, "and even she's not talking to me any more. Ron and Hermione know the truth, of course, and I know they'll stand by me, but I'm not sure I can stand another two terms of this."

"How dare they treat yeh like tha'!" exclaimed Hagrid, thumping the table with his fist so suddenly and so violently that it made Harry jump as well as the cups and saucers. "They should be grateful to yeh, not go around makin' up them nasty stories! I'm sure Professor Dumbledore'll set 'em straight. Great man, Dumbledore."

Harry scowled and then answered in a strained, clipped voice, "As far as I can see, Professor Dumbledore has done nothing about it at all."

"Can't be right, can't be right," muttered Hagrid, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Your turn now, Hagrid," Harry said, wanting to change the subject rapidly and somehow get rid of the dull anger that was building in his chest like a lead weight. "What have you been doing, and why has it taken so long for you to get back? Did you get in contact with the giants?"

"Ter tell the truth, Harry, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed ter tell yeh," replied Hagrid rather doubtfully. "Dumbledore mightn't like it."

"Come on, Hagrid, you know I'm not going to go around telling everyone I meet!" Harry said coaxingly.

"I know yeh won't," answered Hagrid with a sigh, "alright then. Me an' Olympe did a grand tour o' Europe really. Firs' we went ter Beauxbatons, so's she could sort out a few things before we set off proper. I sent yer card from there - did yeh get it on time?"

Harry nodded.

"An' then we went first to the Pyrenees. Yeh know giants like ter hide where they won' be noticed, so yeh have to search them out in the mountains. There's not many there, jus' one colony. An' it took some reachin', I can tell yeh. Four days of climbing into the wildest region on foot. But we found 'em. It took a few days of learnin' their ways an' several approaches before they'd trust us enough ter hear us out. We worked out who the chief was an' brought him a gift each day until he let us speak. Then we had to repeat it all the next day, 'cause he couldn't remember what we'd said, an' the day after that too. They aren't the cleverest of sorts, giants."

"What sort of gifts did you give him?" asked Harry, quite interested in Hagrid's tale by now.

"A righ' mixture: blankets, 'ats, chocolate, freshly-killed animals, engraved clubs, all that sort o' thing - you couldn't go see the chief empty-handed, it's just not the done thing. Once we were done there, we travelled over to the Alps, where the larger colonies are. That was a much 'arder nut ter crack. We walked righ' into the middle of a war between two clans of giants. Each side thought we were spies sent by the other lot, an' we had a few narrow escapes. It took weeks o' tryin' before any of 'em'd trust us. Even then we could only talk to one o' the clans. Turns out Dumbledore was right, an' we weren't the only ones tryin' to make friends out there. The chief of the other clan got this large spiked spear as a present from somewhere, an' it had burnt black skulls all the way down the 'andle. No prizes for guessin' who was behind tha' gift. He refused to speak to us any more an' ordered fer us to be killed on sight."

"So Voldemort has got some giants on his side!" exclaimed Harry, jumping out of his chair and starting to pace up and down on the hearthrug, as Hagrid winced at the sound of the name.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's got more'n a few as well," growled Hagrid in reply, "an' from two different sources. Anyway, I think I've told yeh more 'n I should for now."

Hagrid glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"I think yeh'd better go back up to the castle now - it'll be lunchtime soon. I just need to unpack, an' I'll see yeh up there."

Harry picked up his scarf and gloves from the table and made his way to the door.

As he turned the handle and opened it, Hagrid added, "Oh, an' Harry, about that piece in the Daily Prophet: the people that really count know it's a load of rubbish, an' we'll find a way to prove it somehow."

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

"Thanks Hagrid."

*

Over the next couple of days, the castle sprang back to life as if coming out of hibernation. At each successive mealtime there were more members of staff present than at the meal before; Hagrid's presence alone seemed to make the top table twice as full as it had been. The castle regained the lived-in quality that had been so sadly lacking over the Christmas period, with a fire in every grate and every corridor properly lit.

Then just after dark on the Sunday evening, Harry heard a sudden burst of noise. He rushed to the Common Room window and looked down. Outside the main door, a long line of carriages was pulling up. The doors of the first couple were already open, and the students were piling out of them and up the steps into the castle. Harry watched, as more and more figures joined the throng waiting to get into the relative warmth of the Entrance Hall. He recognised some of the figures, even from the top of Gryffindor Tower: he saw the burly outline of Vincent Crabbe next to the comparatively tiny shape of Draco Malfoy, whose white-blonde hair shone in the moonlight; next he spotted Fred and George Weasley, and close behind them, the bushy hair of Hermione Granger. The wave of sound grew louder and nearer as the chatter and laughter of the students filtered through the castle, and Harry waited to see who would be first through the portrait hole.

Suddenly there was a loud crack from behind Harry that made him jump, followed by several more cracks. He turned sharply to see about a dozen house elves, which had materialised from nowhere, attending to a pile of luggage, which had also just appeared. Each elf levitated five or six pieces of luggage and guided them up the stairs to the dormitories. Harry watched them curiously. He had never really considered how the students' luggage got from the train to the dormitories before.

"Good evening, Harry Potter Sir," came a small, high voice from behind a rather large, battered trunk with moving stickers of Quidditch players stuck all over it.

Harry looked round the edge of the trunk and saw a large pair of eyes staring back at him from the middle of the most curious assortment of garments he'd ever seen.

"Dobby?" he asked uncertainly. "Is that you?"

There were so many jumpers, hats, scarves, gloves and socks on the elf that only its eyes and nose were visible, and the mixture of clashing colours was very eye-catching.

"Dobby it is, sir," replied the elf, pulling down a stripy orange and purple scarf so that Harry could see its face better. "Dobby is very pleased to meet Harry Potter again."

"I haven't seen you around the castle this year," said Harry. "Are you still working in the kitchens?"

"Ah no, Harry Potter, sir, I is not," replied the house elf, shaking its head so forcefully that the gloves covering its ears wobbled and slipped off. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to do a special job for him. Dobby is now in charge of the upkeep of the outhouses and stables, sir. That is why Dobby is helping with the luggage."

"That's good, isn't it Dobby?" asked Harry, surprised that the elf didn't seem more upbeat about this promotion.

"It is a good job, Harry Potter, and Dobby is grateful to Professor Dumbledore for it, but it is very cold. House elves is made for houses, sir, not for stables. Being outside does not come naturally to us."

"But at least you've got plenty of clothes to keep you warm," grinned Harry, pointing at the multitude of knitted garments. "How come you've got so many?"

"Ah Harry Potter, Miss Hermione is leaving presents for all the house elves in the kitchens before Christmas. And they is not wanting the presents, so Dobby is opening them all."

Harry couldn't help but admire Hermione's persistence in trying to free the castle's house elves, even if he wasn't so sure she was going about it in the right way. It wasn't really possible to free someone who doesn't want to be free, he reasoned, and the house elves by and large liked their position. There needed to be a change in their mindset before any of Hermione's schemes could work.

There was the sound of footsteps stopping on the other side of the portrait hole, and Dobby looked startled, his big eyes widening to the size of saucers.

"Dobby must go, Harry Potter. House elves is supposed to deliver the luggage before the students get here. We is not to be seen."

With that, he raised the remaining three trunks with a wave of one spindly finger and guided them hurriedly up the staircase. The portrait hole opened, and the Gryffindor students started to pile in, all chatting happily. Ron Weasley was one of the first in, head and shoulders above most of the other students, and he beamed when he saw Harry.

"Alright Harry?" he said, striding across to him and giving him a playful thump on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning back at him. "You?"

"Fine," Ron replied.

"Harry!" shouted another voice, and Hermione rushed over, closely followed by Ginny. She bounded up to him, threw her arms around his neck and gave him such a big hug that it took his breath away. When he did manage to draw some breath, it was to choke on a mouthful of her bushy, brown hair. Not knowing quite how to handle such an overt demonstration of affection, his arms flapped about awkwardly by his sides for a few moments, and then he raised one hand and patted her clumsily on the back. From behind her, Ron caught Harry's eye, grinned and rolled his eyes in a gesture of mock disbelief, as if to say, "Girls!" Harry had to suppress a laugh.

"Hi Hermione," he coughed, as she eventually let go of him.

"Oh Harry! It's so good to see you!" she babbled at top speed. "Have you had a good Christmas? I was so concerned at you having to stay here all by yourself. Did you get much work done? I've thoroughly revised everything we did last term and re-read the texts for this next term. Oh, and thank you for the cherub - it was beautiful! Mum and Dad thought..."

"Hermione," said Ron with a wry smile, "are you going to let Harry get a word in edgeways?"

She caught her breath and gasped lightly, obviously finding it hard to stop in mid-flow, "Oh, yes - sorry."

There was an awkward silence, during which Hermione looked flustered, Ron looked amused and Harry wondered what words they were expecting him to utter. But it was Ginny who stepped in to rescue the situation.

"They were wondering on the train how on earth you'd managed to survive Christmas without them," she said, smirking. "They half-expected to find you shut up in your dormitory refusing to receive visitors, or in the hospital wing covered in bandages because of the Bubotuber Pus in the hate mail."

"Cut it out, Ginny, of course we weren't!" exclaimed Ron, but the way his ears reddened around the edges told Harry there was at least some truth in what she'd said.

"I just need to drop my cloak and bag upstairs, and then I think it'll be time to go and eat," said Hermione, suddenly her business-like self again.

*

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the Great Hall, sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table. After the extreme quiet of the Christmas holidays, Harry found the noise and chatter of the students a bit overwhelming. He was also very apprehensive about how he might be received by the other students. He did get quite a lot of looks thrown his way as he went to sit down, and one or two people pointed and whispered, but it was, all in all, nowhere near as bad as he had feared.

"How were your holidays then?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, as he ladled a large helping of shepherd's pie onto his plate. "How was the family do?"

"Percy and Mum were an absolute nightmare beforehand," said Ron. "They fussed and nagged about every last detail of the meal. Everything had to be just so. Mum must have spent at least a fortnight cleaning the house beforehand, and she snapped at us every time we left the smallest thing out of place. And Percy kept lecturing us about how to behave to Penny's parents. Kept going on about manners and etiquette. As if we know nothing about it."

With perfect timing, Fred, who was sat next to Ginny, stretched and yawned loudly, while next to him George speared a carrot with his knife and shoved it widthways into his brother's mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes and Ginny giggled.

"But the best bit," Ron continued, lowering his voice, "was what Fred and George did to Percy."

The twins exchanged mischievous glances.

"We did nothing, dear brother," said George with an air of feigned innocence.

"Nothing permanently damaging, anyway," added Fred.

"What did they do?" asked Harry, who had enough experience of the twins' dangerous brand of humour to think of countless permutations of things they could have done.

"Well first they soaked all Perce's underpants in a Scratching Solution they'd knocked up in the garage," Ron went on. "He was so uncomfortable - he couldn't sit still and kept having to excuse himself and go and get changed. He'd been through at least four pairs before he twigged."

"He had to go around au naturale for the rest of the day," grinned George.

"And then Fred here kept trying to levitate his robes," giggled Ginny, nudging her brother in the ribs.

"All good Charms practice for our NEWTS, Sis," said Fred cheerily.

"The funniest thing, though, was the new stuff they put on his fork, their latest invention," said Ron even more quietly, so that they had to lean in closer to hear him. "He started eating, and then his lips began to swell up."

"You mean like the Ton Tongue Toffee?" asked Harry, remembering what had happened to Dudley.

"No, a bit more subtle than that," said Ron. "His lips would swell up, go down again and then swell up again, sort of like an exaggerated throbbing. Took a couple of hours to wear off."

"I lurve you Penny, my darling!" mimicked Fred, clasping hold of Ginny's shoulders and puckering up his lips.

Ron, Harry, Ginny and the twins dissolved laughing. Only Hermione didn't seem amused by their pranks.

"Honestly Ron, I can see why your mum was so worried about it now. How did Penelope's parents cope with it all? They must have thought their daughter was marrying into a family of lunatics!"

"Actually, they were pretty cool about it," replied Ron, frowning slightly at her. "Penelope had warned them about Fred and George beforehand, and Dad did a really good job of explaining everything to them."

They finished their main course, and their dirty plates and the serving dishes disappeared, to be replaced with clean bowls and a wide selection of puddings. Harry and Ron helped themselves to treacle tart and custard, while Hermione and Ginny opted for the Black Forest gateau with cream.

"What about you, Hermione?" asked Harry. "You haven't told us how your holidays were."

"Mine were pretty quiet actually," said Hermione. "Mum and Dad were really pleased to have me home, and it was nice to see my grandparents, but it's not like I had loads of friends around to talk to. I got loads of work done, but it feels very good to be back here."

"Didn't you get a visit from lover boy Vicky over the holidays then?" said Ron snidely, scowling and stabbing viciously at the tart with his spoon. "I thought maybe he'd planned a nice romantic Siberian sleigh ride for the two of you."

Hermione's face darkened and she returned his scowl, her eyebrows almost touching in the middle, and her eyes flashed dangerously.

"How many times, do I have to tell you!" she exclaimed in a shrill, high-pitched voice rather reminiscent of Mrs Weasley's, as she gripped her fork and spoon so tightly that her knuckles went white. "Viktor and I are no more than friends! We never have been an item, and we never will be! Anyway, what's it to you?!"

Harry looked on in bewilderment as Ron opened and closed his mouth like a guppy, temporarily lost for words, his neck, his ears and then his face turning from pale and freckled to bright crimson.

"I ...er... I..." he stammered, looking round first at Harry, then at Ginny for some moral support. "I ...worry about you, you know. He's not right for you."

"Oh?" Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow questioningly and obviously taking some satisfaction from watching Ron squirm. "If he's not right for me, then who is?"

The two of them stared pointedly at each other in silence. The whole table around them had gone very quiet and you could have cut the air with a knife. Harry braced himself for the inevitable explosion from Ron, but it didn't come. Instead, Ron pushed his bowl away from him roughly, got up and literally ran from the Hall.

Ginny gave a long, low whistle and said quietly, "I think you pushed that a bit too far, Hermione. It's not going to help."

"It's better than things carrying on the way they have been," answered Hermione wearily, passing a hand across her forehead, as the other Gryffindors turned away and began to murmur and whisper among themselves. Then she too got up and left the Hall.

Harry looked after his friends in consternation.

"What just happened there?" he asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You're slow on the uptake today, Harry. Isn't it obvious?" she said softly.

He stared at her blankly. She sighed.

"Think about it, Harry: Ron keeps needling Hermione about Viktor, then when she asks who he thinks is suitable for her, he runs off without answering. What does that tell you?"

Harry shook his head slowly as he considered this. But then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as the realisation hit him.

"You mean, Ron... and Hermione?" he asked incredulously. "You mean they...?"

"That's right, Harry," said Ginny. "It's just that Ron won't admit it. He's jealous of Viktor Krum, but won't do anything about it himself."

"Do you think I should go talk to Ron?"

"No, I don't," replied Ginny, grimacing. "I think this is something they need to sort out for themselves, and the less people that get involved the better. Less casualties that way."

*

Neither Ron nor Hermione were anywhere to be seen when Harry and the others went back up to the Common Room. Ron had firmly shut the drapes around his bed, signifying he wasn't to be disturbed, and Harry assumed Hermione had done the same.

The next morning it became apparent that Ron and Hermione had not resolved anything. Indeed they were now ignoring each other very pointedly, sitting at opposite ends of the table, both with their shoulders angled away so they couldn't accidentally catch sight of each other.

This state of affairs continued for the next few days, with Hermione sitting on the opposite side of the classroom from Harry and Ron during lessons, usually either with Neville or with Lavender and Parvati. Harry caught Ron glancing across at Hermione quite a few times in class when he knew she wouldn't notice, but if Ron knew that Harry had seen him, he would look away again hurriedly, his neck and ears turning a rather fetching shade of pink.

Harry really hated having his two best friends not on speaking terms - this silence was, in Harry's opinion, far worse than the constant bickering the previous term - but he took Ginny's advice and didn't interfere, telling himself that if Ron really wanted to talk about it, he knew where to find him. It was hard on Harry to have to choose which one to speak to or associate with at each point in time, and it left him feeling lonelier than ever.

*

On Wednesday morning, they had their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid since he had returned to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron lagged a little behind the other Gryffindors as they walked across to Hagrid's hut from Greenhouse 3, where they had just had a Herbology lesson with the Hufflepuffs. They watched a line of robed figures with green and silver scarves come out of the castle and traipse across the lawn on a convergence course with the Gryffindors.

"Oh great," grumbled Ron, "I forgot we have this lesson with the Slytherins. Why can't we have some lessons with the Ravenclaws for a change? Bet Malfoy's going to have his knife out for Hagrid again."

Hagrid came out to greet them as they arrived at the front of his hut, where some fencing had been erected into what looked like two large paddocks. Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances.

"I've got a real treat for yeh today," said Hagrid to the assembled students, beaming down at them. "Did Professor Grubbly-Plank mention to yeh before Christmas that we have a special project planned for this term?" The students nodded. "Well, this mornin' we'll make a start on it. It's very hands on, an' yeh'll learn a lot."

A buzz of excited whispers broke out among the students. Only Malfoy and Crabbe looked bored and disinterested.

"What monstrosity are you going to get us to care for this time, giant?" drawled Malfoy, his arms folded and his eyes narrowed in defiance. "Flesh-eating slugs, maybe, or perhaps a Graphorn or two?"

Hagrid ignored him, though Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls tittered appreciatively. Harry scowled at Malfoy.

"Follow me, this way," called Hagrid gruffly, leading them behind his hut and over towards the edge of the Forest.

Nestled among the trees was a wooden barn. Hagrid went over to the doors and unlocked them. Then he turned and motioned the students to be quiet.

"Now they're a little shy," he said in a low voice, "so don't make any sudden movements or loud noises. We don't want to scare 'em."

He opened the doors slowly and stepped back so that they could all see inside. Immediately there was a hum of ooh's and aah's from the girls. Blinking at the sudden advent of sunlight, two foals, neither of them more than two feet high, tottered hesitantly out of the barn. One was a rich chestnut colour and the other was dappled grey, and both of them had unsightly bumps on their backs, just behind their shoulders.

"Do any of yeh have experience with horses?" asked Hagrid in hushed tones.

Parvati Patil and Tabitha Knott tentatively raised their hands.

"Here yeh go," said Hagrid, handing each of them a length of rope, "you two can bridle 'em."

Cautiously, the two girls approached the foals, which backed away from them equally as quickly. Seeing they weren't getting anywhere, Parvati moved out to the semi-circle of students again and whispered to Lavender. Lavender nodded, rummaged around in her robe pockets and handed something to her. Then Parvati moved towards the foals again, extending one hand to them. Harry strained to see what she was offering them and saw that she had two sugar lumps in the palm of her hand. The chestnut paused, sniffed the air and then moved warily towards her, the grey following close behind. They lowered their velvety muzzles to eat the sugar, and Parvati and Tabitha took the opportunity firstly to stroke the animals' manes and then, in a very quick movement, to slip the rope over their heads and nose, securing it firmly to one side. The foals struggled for a few moments and then settled down again.

"Well done," said Hagrid, a little louder now that the foals were under control, "Think I'll give ten house points to each o' yeh."

He took the ends of the rope from the girls and they fell back into the semi-circle round the horses, looking very pleased with themselves.

"Now, these aren't just any old horses," Hagrid continued. "Can anyone tell me what they are?"

A few hands shot up, including Hermione's.

"Hermione, let's hear it from you."

Ron studied his feet closely as Hermione replied, "They are winged 'orses. The chestnut is an Aethonan, which are the most common type in Britain and Ireland, and the grey one is a Granian, which are the fastest sort."

"Good, Hermione, spot on," said Hagrid. "Have another five points for Gryffindor. Now these foals are only a couple o' weeks old, and they haven't got their wings yet, as yeh can see. They don' get their wings until they're eight to ten weeks old. Before they get ter that stage, it's our job ter care for them and ter train 'em to trust us an' do wha' we say. If yeh get to one early enough, it's yer friend for life."

"On Friday, I'll give yeh a rota for feeding and mucking out - everyone will be doin' their fair share, no exceptions," Hagrid continued, staring down Malfoy, who looked mutinous. "But fer the rest o' this lesson, we'll divide down into groups and get to know 'em a bit better."

Hagrid led the foals round to the paddocks at the front of his hut, divided the class down into groups of three and four, and showed each group in turn how to approach the foals and gain their trust.

At the end of the lesson, when the horses were back in their barn, Hagrid followed the students up to the castle for lunch, and Harry and Ron hung back to talk to him on the way.

"Great lesson, Hagrid," said Ron encouragingly. "Were the winged horses your idea or Professor Grubbly-Plank's?"

"Well, the idea of raising summat from birth was my idea," he replied, "an' don't get me wrong, the winged horses are lovely creatures, an' a good challenge for kids of your level, but I wish we could have found something more interestin'..."