Meanwhile, in the cozy warmth of Hagrid's hut, Adrian sat comfortably in one of the oversized wooden chairs, holding a steaming cup of tea between his hands.
The chair, carved from what appeared to be a single massive oak log, was sturdy enough to accommodate even Hagrid's body, making Adrian feel almost tiny by comparison.
The ceramic mug in his hands bore the signs of Hagrid's practical approach to pottery, slightly crooked but undeniably functional, radiating blessed warmth through his cold fingers.
The circumstances that had led to this unexpected afternoon visit was:
Just ten minutes ago, Adrian had concluded his Care of Magical Creatures class. He had been walking leisurely along the familiar stone path that made its way from the paddocks back toward the silhouette of Hogwarts castle, enjoying the crisp December air and mentally organizing his thoughts for the afternoon's tasks.
Without warning, one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts had appeared from nowhere and launched an unprovoked attack. The creature—if such a grotesque amalgamation of various dangerous animal parts could truly be called a creature had emerged from behind a rock formation with its explosive back aimed directly at Adrian.
Of course, such a clumsy attack posed absolutely no threat to someone like Adrian. His defensive reflexes had responded automatically. Unfortunately, his counter-spell had proven somewhat more effective than necessary, and the Blast-Ended Skrewt had its tail severed cleanly from its body, causing it to die on the spot.
Remarkably, Hagrid hadn't minded this casualty in the slightest—after countless chaotic battles, training accidents, and what could only be described as natural selection in action, only ten of the original skrewts remained alive.
At this point, losing one more was hardly worth commenting upon, especially when the alternative had been allowing it to potentially harm a professor.
"I must say, Hagrid, I believe the Blast-Ended Skrewts represent a complete failure as magical creatures," Adrian said directly, frowning as he watched Hagrid turn the stinking skrewt corpse over and over with his bare hands, examining it with fascination.
"They're undeniably ugly, demonstrate no intelligence, pose constant danger to anyone in their vicinity, and even their corpses appear to have no practical value."
"Oh, Professor Westeros, I think you're being far too harsh in your assessment," Hagrid replied, looking up from his examination with an expression of honest smile beneath his wild, tangled beard.
Despite the criticism, his eyes still held that warmth and enthusiasm.
"Don't you think they're rather cute creatures? Besides, observing them is an interesting subject of study."
Adrian subtly raised his wand beneath the table and performed a subtle Air-Freshening Charm, it was a useful bit of domestic magic he had learned from a practical book titled "One Hundred Household Spells for the Modern Wizard."
The pungent aroma of rotting fish and sulfur that emanated from the skrewt corpse finally weakened to just unpleasant rather than aggressively nauseating.
"I remain convinced that we should incorporate them into the official curriculum," Hagrid continued with growing enthusiasm, his voice taking on the enthusiastic passion he always showed when discussing his latest obsession.
"The students are growing tired of studying the same common magical creatures year after year—unicorns, hippogriffs, bowtruckles. They need something fresh and exciting to challenge their understanding and expand their horizons."
"Oh, absolutely not," Adrian declined Hagrid's suggestion with immediate and decisive firmness.
He still wanted to maintain his generally positive reputation among the students.
"Speaking of which," Adrian said, deliberately changing the subject of conversation "how are things progressing with Madame Maxime?"
"Wha... what do you mean, how are things progressing?"
Upon hearing Adrian's casual inquiry, Hagrid immediately showed flustered confusion, his massive hands beginning to flutter about nervously as his face reddened beneath its covering of black hair. His voice climbed several octaves, taking on an almost squeaky tone.
Adrian raised one eyebrow conveying his skepticism regarding Hagrid's apparent surprise. "Come now, aren't you courting her?"
"Ahem," Hagrid choked violently on his tea, drops of the hot liquid spraying across the table as he waved his enormous hands in frantic denial.
"Where on earth did you hear such outrageous rumors, Professor Westeros? I never made any such talks like that."
Seeing this, Adrian couldn't suppress a quiet chuckle of amusement.
He took a leisurely sip of his tea, savoring both the warmth of the beverage and the entertainment value of Hagrid's expressions. "Well, I think almost everyone in the castle believes that's the case,"
Now that Adrian thought about it, Hagrid had recently abandoned his "gentlemanly" attire that he had briefly worn during Madame Maxime's visit—the oversized bow tie, the slicked-back hair, the cologne that could be detected from several corridors away.
Adrian found Hagrid's return to his usual disheveled appearance much more appealing and authentic.
"So, you two have no contact at all anymore?" Adrian continued his gentle probing, genuinely curious about the romantic developments between two of the most unusual people he had ever encountered.
"Well... this is... the situation is rather..." Hagrid stammered, his gaze dropping to focus intently on his massive boots as his voice became even more garbled and difficult to understand than usual. "We do... occasionally communicate through owl post... and Madame Maxime is rather sensitive about certain topics. She seems to be avoiding direct contact with me."
"Avoiding you? Has she developed a dislike for your company?" Adrian immediately sat up straighter in his chair, his attention sharpening with focus.
Colleague gossip was always fascinating, but romantic complications involving giants added an extra layer of entertainment value that was simply irresistible.
"Oh, she certainly doesn't dislike me personally," Hagrid quickly denied, his voice carrying the desperate tone of someone trying to convince himself as much as his listener. "It's simply that we've had some disagreements regarding certain matters..."
Knock, knock!
The conversation was interrupted by a sudden, urgent knocking at the wooden door of the hut.
Hagrid practically leaped to his feet with obvious relief, clearly grateful for any excuse to escape Adrian's inquiries. His chair scraped loudly against the rough wooden floor as he hurried toward the door with steps that made the entire floor shake slightly.
Moments later, Harry and his two closest friends burst into the hut with breathless speed that showed they had been running across the snowy grounds. Their cheeks were flushed red from the cold, and small clouds of vapor escaped their mouths with each breath.
"Hagrid, do you have any hot peppers available?" Harry asked directly, his eyes scanning the messy interior of the hut. He paused when he noticed Adrian's presence, clearly not having expected to encounter a professor during what was meant to be an emergency rescue mission.
Adrian nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but his attention was immediately drawn to the small creature held in Harry's arms.
It appeared to be a fire salamander, but something about its appearance and behavior seemed wrong that triggered his professional instincts.
While Adrian was puzzling over the salamander's unusual characteristics, Hagrid moved toward a wooden box that sat among the chaos of his living space and grabbed a large handful of dried peppers.
Then he took the fire salamander from Harry's hands, skillfully opened its mouth, and stuffed several dried peppers inside.
However, just as Hagrid was preparing to complete the expected treatment by gently placing the salamander into the flames of his fireplace, something completely unexpected happened.
The fire salamander suddenly released a piercing, agonized shriek that seemed to fill the entire hut with sound that made everyone's ears ring painfully. The creature began wriggling and twisting in Hagrid's hands with spasms.
Before anyone could react or intervene, the salamander's scales began falling away, revealing pale skin beneath. Its body expanded rapidly, limbs stretching and growing, rearranging themselves with disturbing flexibility until, in the span of perhaps three seconds, the fire salamander had been completely replaced by a very human, very familiar figure.
Neville Longbottom collapsed onto Hagrid's floor, his face was bright red from more than just the pepper-fed burning sensation in his mouth and throat.
"Cough, cough, cough!" Neville gasped desperately, his voice hoarse and strained from the magical transformation. "Water... please, is there any water available? My mouth feels like it's been set on fire from the inside!"
"Merlin's beard and mustache!" Hagrid exclaimed with genuine shock, his surprise causing him to knock over the ceramic teapot that had been sitting on his cluttered table.
Scalding hot tea water splashed across the floor in all directions, creating an immediate threat that caused poor Neville to leap up from his prone position with remarkable agility, despite his obvious discomfort and disorientation from the transformation.
Ron, responding to the crisis, quickly pulled out his wand and tried to conjure a stream of cooling water to relieve Neville's distress. Unfortunately, his spell control proved somewhat less precise than the situation required, and he ended up thoroughly soaking both Neville and himself.
For several chaotic moments, Hagrid's normally cozy hut resembled a disaster zone. Furniture was overturned, hot tea and conjured water covered most available surfaces, and everyone present was either soaking wet, pepper-burned, or both.
Poor Neville bore the brunt of this multiple misfortune.
Half a minute later, when the crisis had finally been brought under some semblance of control, Neville was wrapped in one of Hagrid's enormous coats like a child in an adult's bathrobe.
He sat curled up in the chair Adrian had recently evacuated, still shivering from the combination of cold water, magical shock, and residual pepper burn.
"So then, Mr. Longbottom," Adrian said with a calm tone, "perhaps you could explain to all of us exactly why you underwent a transformation into a fire salamander?"
Every pair of eyes in the cramped hut focused on Neville with intense curiosity and concern. Neville's face, already flushed from his recent ordeal, somehow managed to turn even deep red as he realized he had become the center of attention.
"Malfoy gave me a biscuit to eat," He said in a voice so quiet it was barely audible above the crackling of the fireplace. "He said it was a special treat he had purchased during the last Hogsmeade visit. Then I... I turned into... that thing."
"How could you possibly think it was wise to eat something that Malfoy gave you?" Ron looked absolutely shocked by this answer, his voice was rising with indignation. "Even Goyle and Crabbe, those two troll brained idiots, wouldn't be foolish enough to randomly eat food given to them by someone with questionable motives."
"I have some reservations about that," Hermione interjected. "Those two are much less intelligent than Neville in every measurable way. However, your point remains valid—you really shouldn't accept food from other people without knowing exactly what it contains, Neville.
This is especially true when the person offering the food is someone like Malfoy, who has a history of malicious behavior toward us."
Hearing this gentle but sharp criticism, Neville shook his head with obvious misery and self-blame.
"I didn't want to eat it at all," He explained. "Malfoy didn't give me any choice in the matter. He cornered me in an empty corridor and forced me to eat it, claiming it was some exotic snack he had purchased from one of the specialty shops in Hogsmeade."
"That despicable snake," Ron growled, his hands automatically clenching into fists. "Just wait until I get my hands on him, Neville. I'll make sure he pays for this. No one treats my friends this way without consequences."
"No violence of any kind, Mr. Weasley," Adrian reminded him gently.
"Oh, I understand, Professor," Ron replied with a grin that was somehow more unsettling than reassuring. A strange, calculating light flashing in his eyes that showed his revenge plans might be more creative than simply resorting to physical confrontation.
When it came to dealing with Draco Malfoy, Ron didn't consider the Slytherin boy to represent any serious threat to his abilities or determination.
"Nothing good ever comes from anyone bearing the Malfoy name," Hagrid muttered under his breath, though his words were loud to everyone present.
At this point, Harry suddenly remembered something and said to Neville,
"What you ate was probably a Transfiguration Prank Biscuit from Zonko's Joke Shop. Fred and George mentioned to me that the shop has many varieties of biscuits designed to temporarily transform people into different animals. And they've actually been developing similar products of their own recently."
"Fred and George told you about their secret projects?" Ron turned sharply toward his friend. "They haven't shared any of those plans with me, and I'm their own brother!"
Harry chose not to explain on this sensitive topic, understanding that the full explanation would require revealing information that needed to remain confidential for the time being.
The truth was that he had privately negotiated a business deal with the Weasley twins several weeks ago.
If he managed to win the Triwizard Tournament and get the thousand Galleon prize that came with victory, he had agreed to provide them with that money as startup capital for their business. In exchange, he would receive a partnership share in their "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
Ah yes, the twins had already decided on the shop name.
Harry had been genuinely impressed by the magical products and inventions that Fred and George had been secretly developing in their spare time. They were very interesting, and... this might even be a successful investment.
More pragmatically, Harry understood that he couldn't rely indefinitely on his parents' Gringotts inheritance. The vault contained considerable wealth, certainly, but establishing independent income streams would provide security and independence that inherited money could never match.
He remembered Professor Westeros's casual observation that by graduation time, financial concerns would no longer trouble him. Perhaps this investment opportunity represented the first step toward making that prediction reality.
________________
You can read more chapters on:
patreon.com/IamLuis