Chapter 9
"Gray, come in quick! Have you had dinner yet? I've just made some rock cakes—come try one!"
Hagrid pulled Gabin inside the hut. The fire in the hearth was roaring, filling the small space with welcome warmth.
Hagrid reached up to a large shallow pan sitting above the flames and tipped out several rock cakes—now baked to a dark, almost bluish-black—onto the central table.
Then he poured a steaming mug of coffee and set it in front of Gabin.
Gabin had been here many times before and felt completely at ease. He settled comfortably into the worn sofa, watching Hagrid bustle about.
He did, however, politely decline the rock cakes.
"Thanks, but I've already eaten. If I ever get really bad indigestion one day, I'll give them a try." Gabin flicked his wand; words floated up from the tip.
"What a shame," Hagrid said, grabbing one of the still-scorching rock cakes with his enormous hand and stuffing it straight into his mouth without hesitation.
"Give me a minute—I'll be done eating in no time." Hagrid's voice came muffled around the mouthful.
The sound was like a human-sized rock crusher at work, with occasional gritty crumbs falling like sand.
Gabin watched with genuine interest.
Hagrid's build was roughly the same size as the troll he'd fought—close to three meters tall.
But the life circuit woven through Hagrid's body was far more complex and much thicker and tougher than the troll's.
Gabin was certain that most ordinary spells would lose at least two-thirds of their effect on Hagrid. A first-year like Harry or Ron probably couldn't affect him at all.
As for himself… he'd never tested it and didn't particularly want to. The one thing he knew for sure was that a single punch from Hagrid could send him flying from this hut all the way back to the Gryffindor common-room tower.
As Hagrid ate, the life circuit in his body quietly absorbed faint magical fragments from the rock cakes. A very dim, almost invisible glow spread along the lines, slowly thickening them.
Honestly—if his teeth weren't so normal—Gabin would have been tempted to try one of the giant's signature snacks.
Hagrid didn't keep him waiting long. A few massive bites later, the entire batch disappeared. He let out a long, rumbling belch that sounded like wind howling through a cave. Strips of dried meat hanging from the ceiling began to sway.
"Right, Gray—I'm full now. Just a moment and we'll head out." Hagrid glanced over at Gabin, who was quietly sipping his coffee, and gave a satisfied nod.
He began gathering gear for the Forbidden Forest. First he handed Gabin a lantern, then picked up his pink umbrella. After a second's thought, he grabbed a hat made of some unknown hide.
"Winter's setting in—the forest gets proper cold at night. You'd better wear this, Gray."
Before Gabin could react, Hagrid plonked the hat onto his head and gave it two gentle pats for good measure.
Gabin tugged it up resignedly until his eyes were visible again.
The hat was comically oversized; it could have swallowed half his head.
"Let me see… oh, right—this too." Hagrid unhooked a large leather waterskin from the wall, took down the bubbling kettle from the hearth, and filled it with hot water.
"So if you feel chilly out there, you can take a sip to warm up." Hagrid grinned broadly.
"Normally I'd bring something stronger, but you're still too young. Maybe when you're in third year, eh?" He winked at Gabin and hooked the waterskin to his belt.
Gabin gave the waterskin an extra glance. He'd seen it before, but it still amused him.
A fully formed magical circuit shimmered faintly across its surface—probably for keeping the contents warm.
"Right then, Gray—before we go, I've got to say this again even if you're sick of hearing it." Hagrid stepped in front of him. The usually gentle face turned serious, which somehow made him look a little intimidating.
Gabin met his eyes silently, showing he was listening.
"First, you don't leave my side or Fang's. Not even one meter."
Hagrid held up one thick finger. Gabin nodded obediently.
"Second, no magic unless it's life-or-death dangerous."
A second finger joined the first. Then Hagrid added:
"And that includes your fancy upgraded Lumos."
"Third: same as always—don't pick up too much stuff in the forest."
This rule had actually been added after the first few patrols. While walking the outer edges, they often came across interesting things: rare herbs, unusual stones, bits of scale or horn or fur shed by magical creatures.
Hagrid would collect some to sell for pocket money or donate to the school stores.
As his assistant, Gabin was allowed to do the same—but unlike Hagrid's casual, luck-based approach, Gabin had his magical perspective.
Things hidden deep, things that looked ordinary, even things half-buried in the earth—none escaped his notice.
He didn't always know what they were, but if the magical circuit was complex and flashy, or thick and strong, it went in the bag.
At first Hagrid hadn't minded. Then one day he'd taken a nondescript gray root with faint blue flecks to sell on Gabin's behalf. It turned out to be an extremely rare, ancient variety of starwort—worth fifteen Galleons.
That was when Hagrid realized everything Gabin picked up was exceptionally good.
In the end, the starwort went into Snape's private collection. Gabin received fifteen Galleons as a reward—and a new rule:
"No picking too much in the forest."
Gabin understood. The Forbidden Forest belonged to Hogwarts; everything inside technically belonged to the school.
Instead of confiscating his finds without compensation, the school had paid him—a generous gesture. They could have easily claimed it all.
Those fifteen Galleons had repaid Dumbledore's loan for his wand and books, with some left over as his own pocket money.
It meant he lived far more comfortably than most first-years. At least he never had to worry about spending money.
The rule only applied to truly valuable items that might affect the forest's balance. Ordinary finds worth a few Sickles to one Galleon? Hogwarts didn't mind. Hagrid even helped him sell them.
Among all the first-years, only Harry had more family money and pocket money than him. No one else came close.