"These little rascals aren't trying to get me drunk and pump me for gossip, are they?"
Hagrid froze for a second, eyeing the trio and then the bottle of red wine. He put on his sternest professor face and puffed up. "Didn't I already tell you lot I'm quitting drinking? What's with the wine? Nice try, but it's not happening!"
Hermione stood there holding the bottle like an idiot until she noticed the fully-robed Professor Lewent standing beside Hagrid, giving them an amused nod.
Harry and Ron were still outside the fence, facing the now very serious-looking gamekeeper. With that massive half-giant frame, Hagrid could actually look pretty intimidating when he tried.
"Gossip? What gossip? We just figured, no classes on the weekend, thought we'd come chat. The wine's a congratulations-on-the-new-professor-job present!" Ron said, playing dumb.
"In the Muggle world red wine is a totally normal gift," Harry jumped in. "You can drink it, or just keep it. Ask Professor Lewent; he'll back us up!"
Melvin knew they were full of it, but he nodded anyway.
Hagrid's eyebrows scrunched together.
These kids had tricked stuff out of him way too many times; just because he got chatty after a few pints. But he wasn't that old Hagrid anymore. He was a proper elective professor now. He had to earn the trust of his colleagues and students. No more falling for the "let's get Hagrid tipsy" routine.
On the other hand… Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't just students. They were mates. Maybe they really did just want to hang out and celebrate his promotion. It'd be rotten to assume the worst.
He could always stash the bottle somewhere safe…
Hagrid glanced at Harry and Hermione, clearly torn.
"I don't have a wine cellar; it'd go off. Plus Fang would knock it over in two seconds," he said quickly, like he was talking himself out of it. "Anyway, I've got to weed the vegetable patch, water everything, and fertilize. No time today. Come back next week, yeah?"
"Fine…" Hermione sighed. Hagrid was on high alert; no chance of getting anything out of him today. Time for Plan B. "We'll visit next week then. Professor Lewent, walk back to the castle with us? We've got some questions."
Melvin smirked, scratched the little snake curled around his wrist, and nodded. "As long as the questions are Muggle Studies related."
They left the hut and headed up the path through the Forbidden Forest's edge.
Harry glanced back. Fang was rolling in mud, chasing Buckbeak (who was digging for field mice), tail wagging like a helicopter blade. The hippogriffs all looked sleek and healthy. Little Yurm the snake had joined the fun too. Eagles and snakes are supposed to hate each other, but somehow Yurm got along great with the flock.
Harry sneaked a look at Professor Lewent. The man looked relaxed, almost happy. Whatever had happened last night must have gone well.
"Professor," Hermione started cautiously, "last week in class Hagrid mentioned Professor Snape's been brewing medicine for Professor Lupin. Sounds pretty serious. Do you know what illness it is?"
Instead of answering, Melvin changed the subject. "Hermione, at the Start-of-Term Feast, Professor McGonagall said the Ministry and the Board of Governors approved your special course plan. Sounds like a big deal. Care to share?"
"But… you already know, don't you?"
The second the words left her mouth, Hermione realized her mistake. Harry and Ron both whipped their heads toward her, eyes wide.
Of course the professor knew about the Time-Turner. But her classmates didn't. And she definitely wasn't allowed to tell them. McGonagall had drilled the rules into her: don't let anyone notice, never meet your past self, etc.
Time is fragile. One tiny slip could be catastrophic.
The books were full of horror stories: witches and wizards accidentally killing past or future versions of themselves, completely rewriting someone's life, erasing entire bloodlines because a person who was supposed to exist never got born.
"Some things have to stay secret," Melvin said gently, "not just to protect the person involved, but for everyone else's sake too. If you're really curious, ask Professor Lupin or Professor Snape yourselves."
He glanced down at the dark circles under her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of secrets, those bags are impressive. Caught night-wandering by Filch?"
Harry and Ron were still trying to decode the earlier conversation when Hermione shook her head. "Too many classes. Stayed up way too late finishing Arithmancy homework."
"Time spent isn't only valuable when it's spent studying," Melvin said. "Saving a few hours to actually sleep means future-you isn't a zombie. Proper rest makes the studying you do more effective."
Hermione nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Also," he paused, "even if you repeat hours, the wear and tear on your body is real. You understand what I'm saying?"
Hermione pressed her lips together and stayed quiet.
A Time-Turner lets you relive hours, but growing up doesn't go backwards. By the end of the year she'd be roughly three months older than everyone else in her year.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, totally lost. Same year, same classes; how was the gap between them and Hermione suddenly this huge? What were these two even talking about?
"Professor," Harry said hesitantly, "can I ask about Neville? Last night we went to your office for tutoring and Sir Cadogan said a bunch of professors left the castle together, including Neville. They still haven't come back…"
"Nothing to hide there," Melvin answered easily. "We took a trip to treat Neville's parents. It went well. Right now Neville should be at home reuniting with them. He'll be back tomorrow."
Harry froze.
He thought Neville was pretty unlucky; his parents were heroes who never broke under torture, went insane rather than betray the Order, and spent thirteen years drooling in St. Mungo's. Now they were healed. As Neville's dorm mate, Harry was genuinely happy for him.
But underneath the happiness was a sour little stab of envy he couldn't quite swallow. Neville got his parents back. Harry never would.
The thirteen-year-old hadn't learned to hide his feelings yet; everything showed on his face. Melvin didn't need Legilimency to read the ache there.
Ron and Hermione noticed their friend's mood drop and walked quietly beside him.
They reached the castle steps. Melvin stopped, rolled the emerald ring on his finger, and sighed. The contrast really was brutal. Two kids from the prophecy: one's parents murdered by Avada Kedavra, the other's parents institutionalized for over a decade and now suddenly cured. Of course Harry couldn't just feel happy.
"Harry," Melvin said softly, "do you want to see your parents again?"
Harry's whole body jerked. He looked up, eyes wide and trembling. "W-what… what do you mean?"
They were dead.
They weren't ghosts. How could a living person meet the dead?
"Magic's a wonderful thing. How do you know it's impossible if you never try?"
Harry's throat bobbed. Professor Lewent sounded exactly like the devil in those Muggle Bible stories; offering a custom-made temptation that no one in their right mind could turn down. One little "yes" and you'd fall straight into the abyss. But anyone would say yes.
Melvin almost laughed at the rapidly shifting expressions. "Relax. I'm not after your soul or your lifespan, and I'm not asking you to do anything immoral. I'm just giving you an assignment."
"What kind of assignment?"
"Find out the whole truth about what happened to your parents the night they died. When you think you've uncovered every secret, come find me in my office."
He turned and started up the steps, then looked back. "Oh, and Ron; tell Fred and George to swing by my office after dinner."
"Uh, yeah! Got it!" Ron perked up instantly.
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