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  This chapter was edited by Gdiusx. Check his works on HP and ASOIAF, I highly recommend them.

  Loud barking was the first thing that greeted Harry after knocking, and Hedwig shifted uneasily on his shoulder. He could hear the excited Fang as he scratched on the door, followed by Hagrid’s annoyed grunts.

  “Calm down, ye ruddy mutt. T’s just a visitor.” Hagrid’s voice was followed by heavy steps, along with the sound of something getting dragged away from the door. A moment ter, the door opened slightly, showing Hagrid's titanic frame.

  “Hi, Hagrid. Mind if we come in?”

  The gamekeeper looked rather haunted with a far off look in his eyes, but as he curiously gazed at them, any sorrow was quickly repced with joy.

  “Harry! So good to see ye, d. Ye even brought Hedwig! Come in, come in.”

  The rge man opened the door ajar, allowing Harry to enter but also allowing Fang to pounce on him in excitement.

  “Heel!”

  The boarhound froze at Harry's command. Dog and boy met each other's eyes for a couple of seconds before Fang dropped to the ground and rolled on his back, stomach up, tail wagging, looking imploringly at Harry. He chuckled and proceeded to kneel, rubbing Fang’s belly and scratching under the chin, careful not to get any drool on his hands, causing the hound to pant in happiness.

  Harry couldn’t let such a leal companion be disappointed, and even Ghost approved, albeit grudgingly.

  “Well, this is a first. That stinkin’ dog doesn’t even listen to my commands, and I raised the mutt since it was a sucklin’ pup.”

  Hagrid’s amused voice caused him to stand and take stock of the friendly gamekeeper. Harry had always been impressed by how rge his first-ever friend was. He was an enormous man, standing over 11 feet tall with wild, tangled hair and an even wilder beard. Underneath all that hair was a kind face that Harry thought looked squarish, though it was nearly impossible to tell. His onyx eyes glinted like bck beetles, and the little skin he could see on his face had ugh lines.

  The keeper of keys didn’t have his massive mokeskin coat on him, but merely leather breeches and a half-sleeved shirt that struggled to cover his beer belly. It was easy to see now that despite how rge Hagrid was, he was not built like the giants Jon saw Beyond the Wall. Magic was clearly at hand with how human the man was, as he had normal-looking feet compared to Westerosi giants, and his dustbin-lid-sized hands also looked normal enough with no deformities. Most important of all, he wasn’t covered in hair or fur from head to toe, aside from his beard.

  It was unclear whether Hagrid was truly a giant, half-giant, or simply an incredibly rge human.

  Except everything was easily five times as rge as a regur human, which, combined with the groundkeeper’s active lifestyle, granted Hagrid an impressively muscur physique. Jon idly wondered how much of a force on the battlefield such a man could be when equipped in arms and armour. Harry, however, instinctively knew that the rge man was far too kind and gentle to ever go into battle willingly.

  He betedly realised that Hagrid must be over seventy years old, yet he, like all wizards he’d met so far, looked barely half his age.

  “It’s good to see you back, Hagrid.”

  “Aye, ’s good to be back. Let’s get ye seated, I was just makin’ some err…”

  The sound of something bubbling caught Harry’s attention, and he turned towards the stove, where a rge covered pot was starting to boil. With speed that belied his size, Hagrid quickly moved to the pot and carried it off the stove, then pced it over a trivet on his dining table, where a few more simir pots waited. Harry took this opportunity to look at Hagrid’s rustic and charming hut, which he could’ve sworn looked rger from the inside than out.

  “Harry, brin’ Hedwig over here.”

  He turned to find the hut’s owner by the window, and Hedwig didn’t wait for his reply as she flew towards a perch where Hagrid pced a bowl of water and some owl treats.

  “Isn’t she a beau’y? Got her from Eyelops tha’ day. Owner compined she had a bad temper and no one wanted her, nor did she want anyone. Proved ‘em wrong, eh, girl?”

  The owl chirped as if agreeing, though she did bark angrily at Fang when he approached curiously.

  “Anyway,” Hagrid returned to the table and offered Harry a seat, “I’m sorry about wha’ happen’ to Ron. He was a good d.”

  “He was indeed.” A sombre silence fell over them as they grieved over their fallen friend for a few minutes before Hagrid reached out to the pot and removed its cover.

  “So what’s that you have there, Hagrid?”

  “Oh, this? Just summat I’ve been trying to make since I returned from Mungos a couple of days ago.”

  “Oh, I heard about that.” Harry looked at his rge friend in concern, “what happened?”

  Hagrid looked recalcitrant for a moment before sighing, “Azkaban is no’ a nice pce, Harry. The guards there – Dementors – they are evil creatures.” The gamekeeper shivered as he recalled his month of imprisonment there.

  “So I've heard.” Harry unconsciously scowled, “the ministry must be bonkers to trust those creatures. Didn't they join Voldemort st time?”

  “Aye, they did.” Hagrid gave him a slight gre for using Voldemort's name, but he simply raised an eyebrow in defiance. After a minute of not backing down, Hagrid sighed exasperatedly.

  “So feisty, just like your mother, Harry.”

  “Was she also a troublemaker?” Harry grinned, gd to learn more about his parents.

  “Lily Potter? Troublemaker? Hah!” The gentle giant ughed uproariously for a good minute, “Never. Lily was like yer friend Hermione with being a stickler to the rules.”

  “But, Hagrid.” Harry couldn't hide his widening grin, “Hermione has broken more rules in the past two years than any normal student would in their tenure here. Do you mean to say my mother was even more adventurous?”

  They both guffawed for another minute before Hagrid checked the pots on the table.

  “It was your dad who was up ter mischief in school. Drove yer mom half-mad as she tried to reign him in. He and his friends were such trouble tha’ people started calling them Marauders. The buggers took the title with a badge of honour.”

  “So, who was my Dad's closest friend?”

  “That would be Sirius Bck. You've heard of him?” Hagrid soberly asked.

  “Aye, I did. Heard he's locked where he belongs in Azkaban.”

  “That he is. I didn't see him, but I heard mention that he's still there. Alive and lucid.” For a moment, Hagrid looked furious before he calmed down. “Azkaban is a horrid pce, Harry. I've only stayed there fer a month, yet some of the occupants have been there fer years, decades even. I sometimes wonder if it would be merciful to just kill them instead of the eternal torture they suffer.”

  Harry could see where his kind friend was coming from. It wasn't in his nature to prolong someone's death; better to behead them and be done with it. By his own hands if it was personal.

  “But you survived Azkaban.”

  “Aye, I did. Caught a chill from one of those buggers breathing down my neck for too long. Nothing serious,” he added quickly at Harry’s concerned look. “Just felt cold all the time. The healers told me it was a rare reaction from those monsters. Which brings me to this.”

  He smiled widely as he uncovered the pot to show some sort of syrupy broth that smelled heavenly. Harry was sure he smelled it before, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall where.

  “What is it?”

  “This…is mead. Healer’s orders are teh get some sunshine and drink something warm teh lose the st of the effects.”

  Now he remembered! It was a staple in the North to drink mead and ale, yet it had never smelled so good.

  “What’s it made of?” Harry tried to tone the interest down from his voice.

  “Oh, a bi’ of this and a bi’ of that. Mostly, stuff I grow meself or gather from the forest with some spices I buy from someone in Hogsmeade.”

  Without a word, Hagrid brought out a mug rger than Harry’s head and poured himself a generous portion.

  “Can I have some?”

  Hagrid froze as he brought the mug to his mouth and frowned, “Yer too young, Harry.”

  “That’s not a no. Come on, Hagrid. If I can kill giant snakes and spiders, then I should at least be able to get something good to drink.”

  Hagrid had taken a sip from his mug and nearly spluttered. “Wha’ do yeh mean you killed spiders?”

  Harry flexed his fist as he remembered his nightmarish encounter with the Acromantus. “You told us to follow the spiders. Ron and I did so, and they led us to Aragog deep into the forest.”

  “Oh dear,” The gentle giant looked terribly uncomfortable. “They didn’ give yeh any trouble, did they?”

  Harry stared silently at the man for a few seconds, “Your friend answered our questions well enough, but only because we told him you sent us.”

  “Oh, well, tha’s good then.” Hagrid beamed as he took another sip of the spiced mead.

  “Once we were done, he told his brood that we were essentially free food.” Hagrid coughed as his drink went down the wrong pipe. “We had to fight our way out there, and if it wasn’t for Mr Weasley’s car, we would have died, Hagrid. Even Fang was terrified of those bastards.”

  The dog seemingly understood Harry’s point and moaned pitifully at his still-coughing master. Or he probably just wanted a treat after getting the cold shoulder from Hedwig.

  It took a minute for Hagrid to recollect himself, “I’m sorry this happened, Harry. I really thought Aragog would treat yeh better. I got him in me third year, yeh know?”

  “I know – Tom Riddle told me so.”

  “How the ruddy hell did tha’ happen?!” Hagrid was beyond shocked, even scared. Harry spent the next hour recounting what he knew of Tom Riddle and what happened in the Chamber. By the end of it, he had managed to finagle a mug of mead for himself from a distraught and distracted Hagrid.

  “This tastes brilliant!” The mead was hot and had a kick due to the spices used, yet Jon thought he had never drank a finer beverage.

  Too bad Hagrid was too busy crying his eyes out, big ugly tears and snot were pouring down in guilt and grief. “It's all me fault! Ron wouldn'ta died if I didn't tell yeh to follow the spiders.”

  “Hagrid, what happened in the Forest was unavoidable.” He patted the giant man on his elbows, the highest he could reach. “We survived, and that's what matters. As for the chamber, it's our fault for trusting Lockhart. And it was ultimately Voldemort's fault as well. So please, don’t bme yourself.”

  Hagrid wiped his tears in one of his massive handkerchiefs and blew his nose. Harry gave him a couple of minutes to calm down and used that time to sip more from the mead.

  “Aye… Forget this depressing stuff. Have a look at this.” Hagrid brought out a polished oak stick.

  No, not a stick.

  “Is that your wand?” He looked in amazement at probably the rgest wand he had ever seen.

  “Yep. Dumbledore managed to clear me name with the ministry.” Hagrid smiled brightly, all prior guilt and sadness forgotten. “Took me straight to Ollivander’s to see if he could fix me old wand. Sadly, he couldn’t.” His face fell slightly before brightening up, “the core was reusable, but it had to be fitted into another wand. This is even longer than me old one at twenty inches, made of Oak and the heartstring of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Merlin’s beard, I miss Norbert.”

  “That’s great news, Hagrid. I’m thrilled for you. I say this calls for a celebration.” He raised his mug of mead, causing the older man to hesitantly do the same, and bumped them both.

  “Cheers!” Harry took a generous gulp of the drink, Hagrid doing the same. Another comfortable silence followed, and Harry noticed his drinking companion was getting tipsy. Despite his massive size, Hagrid didn’t hold his liquor well.

  This gave Harry an idea.

  “So tell me, Hagrid. You’ve been into the Forbidden Forest plenty of times, aye?”

  Hagrid grunted, “been in there at least once a week since Dumbledore convinced Dippet to give me the job. Great man, Dumbledore. Great man.”

  “Yes, yes, the headmaster is indeed a great man, but listen,” Harry tried not to sound too enthused, but he wanted his friend’s attention. “You reckon you know all about the forest?”

  “Know all?” Hagrid barked out a ugh, “I know more about the forest than any living witch or wizard, and I’ll tell you this.” The man leaned forward on the table, his face flushed. “I know tha’ what I know about the pce barely scratches the surface. Yeh heard of Wildnds?” Harry nodded, “Good. Some of the Wildnds I heard of or visited are rge expanses of nd or water. You go in there, and you are basically in a different world. Some of them even have different day and night cycles or even different weather than outside. It would be the height of summer outside, yet it could be freezing cold inside.”

  Harry had to stop his jaw from dropping at the sheer…magic of what Hagrid was speaking of. He drank the st of his mead and smmed the mug on the table.

  “How – how different is the Forbidden Forest? Ron and I travelled quite deep in there, but it didn’t seem different from other forests.”

  Hagrid poured himself another mug of mead and offered him a refill that he gdly took, “How long did yeh walk in there?”

  Harry tried to remember through the panic and fear he had felt that night nearly a month ago, “More than thirty minutes but less than an hour.”

  “Heh, try travelling in there for days, and yeh would still not reach the end. I never did manage to cross the entire distance. Too much danger, and the Centaurs aren’t the friendliest bunch, yet they are the most civilised creatures you will find there.”

  “I thought you said the forest itself isn’t that rge?”

  “I did, but the pce will do its best to disorient you and get you lost. Beau’iful beasts and flora in there, though.”

  “Oh?” This was what Harry had been waiting for, “tell me more.”

  A*L*S*M

  Evening,

  The almost boy-who-lived

  “Neville, have you seen Harry?”

  He turned towards the voice of Hermione as he descended the stairs from the boys’ dormitory, “No, I haven’t seen him since he went to Hagrid’s. Do you think he’s still there?”

  “I sure hope not. The feast will start in a few minutes, and we are all required to attend.” Hermione frowned, “you don’t think something happened to him?”

  “To Harry?” The very idea shocked Neville, “Can’t be. He’s too strong for anyone to bother, especially with what happened.”

  “OK, Gryffindors! Line up, please; we will be heading to the Great Hall.”

  The sound of one of the prefects caught their attention, and he moved to walk with Hermione as they followed the rest of the Gryffindors out of the tower.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” the bushy-haired girl whispered urgently to him as they trailed behind the line of students. “He’s been asking a lot of questions about the Forbidden Forest and its residents recently. I just worry he lost track of time speaking with Hagrid or, worse, convinced him to take him in there.”

  “The Forbidden Forest!”

  Neville blushed when a couple of students turned at his loud excmation, and Hermione dragged him away to a nearby alcove. Once they had their privacy, the boy had to fight down a blush at the girl’s proximity.

  He shook his head inwardly, “mind expining why Harry wants to go into the Forest? I’ve only been there once, and it was horrible!”

  “I’m not sure myself.” Hermione shook her head in frustration, “Harry keeps a lot of things close to his chest. What I do know is that he is overly interested in specific magical creatures.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well,” the girl looked hesitant. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I’m not, Neville.” She huffed in exasperation, “I don’t know everything, you know. I only know what I can know, and what I know is limited by what I am capable of knowing.”

  Neville’s mind whirred at that for a moment, “that makes no sense.”

  At Hermione’s giggles, Neville realised she was teasing him, causing him to groan and facepalm in an attempt to cover the heat rising to his cheeks. Merlin, the girl was so… nice. She wasn’t the prettiest, but she wasn’t ugly, and Neville didn’t care about that. He cared more about how smart and driven she was. Neville wished he could be like her.

  They jumped in fright when they heard hissing sounds, and the wall next to them opened up to reveal–

  “Harry!”

  Hermione rushed to her friend, and Neville followed as he forced down the jealousy that sprang up at the sight of the girl he liked fussing over a boy whom he was sure was not interested in her. He shook his head violently, Harry had been nothing but kind and supportive of him. It would be a disgrace if he treated him differently over something like that.

  “Heeeyyy, ‘Mione. N’ville. How’s it hanging?”

  They both stopped at the slurred speech of the boy. Upon further inspection, they found that his face was flushed, his eyes were dited, and his movement was unsteady.

  “What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione fussed over the boy, who giggled uncontrolbly.

  “Nuthins wrong ‘mione. Every ting’s GREAT! I’m gonna hunt some beasties for my…my…” Harry looked lost in thought, “what was I hunting again?”

  Neville sniffed the air and recoiled.

  “Harry… Are you drunk?”

  “Whaaat? Naw, I’m Harry.” Harry stumbled out of their grasp, nearly tripping on nothing.

  “Harry, what did you drink at Hagrid’s?” Hermione's tone was reproachful, and honestly, Neville could understand her.

  “Hmmmmm,” Harry frowned as he leaned on the wall. “It was some good stuff. I drank Hagrid under the table, left him colpsed in his hut, learned a ton of stuff…” He yawned deeply as they hesitantly followed him to the tower.

  “Neville,” Hermione turned to him pleadingly. “I don’t think Harry is fit to attend the feast, and I shudder to think what the teachers would do to him. Can you please take him back to the dorms and have him sleep off whatever he drank?”

  “Sure, Hermione. But what about McGonnogal?”

  “Don’t worry about the deputy headmistress, I’ll tell her that Harry isn’t feeling well or something.”

  For a moment, she looked torn at the idea of lying to a teacher, but she quickly had a determined look on her face. Neville was surprised that the girl whom everyone secretly called a teacher’s pet could so decisively decide to cover for a student and lie to the teachers.

  “Alright then. Come on, Harry.” He grabbed Harry’s elbow and marched him to the tower. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “But I don’t wanna go to bed.” The Boy-Who-Lived whined as he dragged his feet, but despite his strength, he was both short and light enough for Neville to drag him. “I’m so hungry, I can eat a horse.”

  “Come on now. We can’t have any of the teachers see you like this.” They reached the portrait entrance, and Neville said the password, ignoring the Fat Lady’s nosiness.

  The common room was deserted as everyone was already on the way to the feast. Neville dreaded the idea of carrying Harry upstairs to the dorms; he was already feeling winded from that day’s training session.

  He led Harry to a couch by the firepce, and Harry colpsed on it with a groan.

  “Ugh, my head is spinning so much. So damn worth it, though.”

  “Just what did you drink at Hagrid’s?” Neville sat on an armchair to catch his breath.

  “Something fun, but you’re too young to try it.”

  Neville’s eyebrow twitched at his friend’s mirthful tone and giggles, “I’m a day older than you, you prat. I’ll also have you know I tried my fair share of alcoholic beverages.”

  “I’m sure you did, you fancy wine-drinking upper-css posh. Unlike us poor peasants who have to make do with ale and beer.” The boy’s zy smile and joking manner caused Neville to crack a smile.

  “Oh? Is that what you drank then? Ale?”

  “Ale? Now that’s a good idea.” Harry hummed in thought before a cough brought him back, “but no. I had mead, Neville. Honest to the gods mead straight from the most succulent of honeys and ripest of fruits.”

  Neville had no idea what’s so special about mead. “Hermione and I worried about you. Didn’t you know the farewell feast was tonight?”

  “Ah yes, you and Hermione.” Harry’s suddenly sharp tone brought Neville short. “You better treat her right, Neville. She’s like a sister to me.”

  “W-what are you talking about?” Neville’s blush had gone tomato red, “Hermione likes you, not me.”

  “Of course she likes me, she can’t be more obvious if she tried to hide it. I also like me, and me likes her too, but not the way she likes me.” Neville looked confused, and he wondered if Harry was still too drunk to make coherent sentences.

  But was it that obvious that he liked Hermione? Embarrassingly enough, Neville had felt that way towards her since that day a year ago when he tried to stop the three of them from sneaking out of the tower, and the girl hexed him. With her confident and determined expression as she apologised before doing the deed, he wished he had someone like that by his side. He had always known that Hermione was a hard-working witch, and unlike nearly everyone who cimed the girl was a genius, Neville knew that she was not. She was even better, a normal girl who refused to take mediocrity as an option and gave her best and beyond to be better than everyone else.

  Yet, it would not matter. If he ever tried to broach the subject of courting a muggle-born to his grandmother, disapproval would be the least of his concern. While his family had never been too traditional, nor did they have a history of attacking muggles for sport, that he knew of, they never really cared for them either. Neville understood the importance of his position as heir of house Longbottom, a noble and ancient house that traces its lineage to the time when the Saxons ruled the nds. While he had no pns to marry young, just appearing to date a muggle-born would cause tongues to fp, and he was sure his grandmother would froth at the thought of combining unknown blood into their lineage.

  Then, there was also the matter of Hermione herself understanding all of this.

  “Anyway, this isn’t the time for this Harry. Do you think you can clean up and head to the feast?”

  For a moment, a serious frown appeared on the bck-haired boy. “No. I think I’ll go to sleep.” A sardonic smile appeared on his face as he stood from the couch, feet slightly shaking. “I still outdrank Hagrid, so that's a win to me.”

  Neville stood and offered a hand, which Harry took gratefully. “You’re a good friend, Neville.” The blonde-haired boy smiled shyly as they climbed the stairs. He couldn’t help but notice that Harry looked and acted far more sober than five minutes ago. “I have high hopes for you and wish you the best in pursuing Hermione. She might be bossy and frankly annoying at times,” he nearly stumbled at the boy’s words. “But she has a stout heart and a good head on her shoulders.”

  They reached their rooms, and Harry promptly crashed on his bed.

  “Good night, Harry.”

  “Mhmm, n’ite.” was the muffled response followed by gentle snoring.

  .

  .

  .

  Neville ignored the curious looks directed at him when he entered the Great Hall, opting to search for Hermione instead. He found her waving at him with an empty seat next to her.

  “How was Harry?”

  “Well enough,” He answered warily as half of the Gryffindor table was trying to listen in. It didn’t miss anyone that one of their own was not present, especially the Boy-Who-Lived.

  “Honestly, that boy drives me crazy sometimes.” Hermione stabbed at her chicken, though Neville could see a slight upturn of her lips.

  “He seemed very proud of his achievement.” Neville filled his pte with food before briefly inspecting the staff table, “Hagrid isn’t here.”

  “No, he isn’t. Was Harry telling the truth then?”

  “Seems like it.”

  Both of them had amused looks in their eyes as their fellow Lions’ curiosity peaked to a fervour, yet they focused entirely on their ptes.

  Eventually, once dessert was served, the Headmaster stood up and gave a single cp, causing the tables to clear of all food.

  Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes twinkled with wisdom and sorrow as he surveyed the sea of eager faces before him. His vision froze once he realised Harry was not present, though Neville could see McGonnogal whisper quietly to him. The headmaster nodded, then cleared his throat and began, his voice resonating through the hall.

  “My dear students, as we gather here tonight, we bid adieu to a remarkable yet sorrowful school year at Hogwarts. First, allow me to start with good news. Our favourite Keeper of Keys and Grounds has finally returned to us from his unjust incarceration.”

  Loud cheering sounded out, mostly from the Gryffindor table, yet some students looked confusedly at Hagrid’s empty seat.

  “Yes, yes. I’m sure you are all asking, ‘where is Hagrid?’ Never fear, for our Gamekeeper appears to have not yet fully recovered from his ordeal and had opted for a night of rest instead.”

  Most students seemed satisfied with the expnation, though Neville noticed many having knowing looks or smirks.

  “It saddens me to acknowledge the loss of one of our brightest stars, Ronald Weasley.” The sudden procmation silenced the Great Hall, “his family is still grieving, and I wish you would not disturb them from their grief. Give them time, and they shall bounce back stronger than ever, yet do not leave your friends for too long, or else they might drown in the pit that is despair.”

  Several students nodded their heads in affirmation. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, a prefect from Ravencw and other students from the other houses. Neville was even surprised to see a couple of Slytherins having looks of sympathy on their faces.

  “Young Ronald might not be among us,” the Headmaster gazed at his students, “but let us remember that his absence does not diminish his profound impact on this institution.”

  A sombre silence fell upon the hall as Dumbledore continued, “it is in times of challenge and adversity that we discover our true selves, and Ron exemplifies this truth. He has shown courage, loyalty, and an unwavering commitment to do what is right. We must carry forward the lessons he has taught us, even as he embarks on his next great adventure.”

  Dumbledore's voice grew stronger, infused with hope, “in life, we often face darkness and uncertainty. But it is during these moments that the light of friendship, the strength of unity, and the power of love shine brightest. Remember the lessons you've learned within these walls, and know that the bonds forged here will sustain you in the years to come.”

  As the headmaster concluded his speech, the students erupted into appuse, their hearts filled with gratitude and inspiration. Dumbledore's wisdom had touched them all, and they left the Great Hall that evening with renewed determination to face the challenges that y ahead.

  Neville, however, couldn’t help but wonder, “why didn’t the Headmaster mention Lockhart or the Basilisk?”

  “Everyone already knows, and it's better not to give that bastard the satisfaction of being remembered.”

  Hermione's cold and acerbic tone came as a surprise, and Neville felt his cheeks heat up. Merlin, since when did she start insulting adults, let alone professors?

  He can’t deny that it was…intriguing.

  Oh, Hagrid. Never change. You must have been responsible for moving the plot forward in every book.

  Harry finally gets to drink. It's stronger than he expected. Yet, his enhanced physique and the ritual’s effects allowed him to triumph over his foreboding foe.