Chapter 404: Halloween and the Forgotten Hagrid

Time slipped quietly through the corridors of Hogwarts, as it always did, unhurried and unnoticed.

By the end of October 1996, nearly a month had passed since the last of those strange, immersive dreams that had left a faint trace in the minds of a few students. Yet no matter how the days rolled by, the joys, sorrows, and mischiefs of the young witches and wizards flowed as steadily as the changing seasons.

With Halloween only three days away, the castle had already begun its slow, subtle transformation.

Though Hagrid was now settled comfortably in his role as Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, he had never once abandoned a tradition he'd upheld for decades. Behind his hut, the pumpkin patch he'd carefully tended since spring was full to bursting. Year after year, he grew them larger than life, ready to be hollowed, carved, and enchanted to float through the Great Hall during the Halloween feast.

Down by the Black Lake, a thin layer of frost had formed over the surface, the first real sign that autumn was giving way to something colder. The lakeside path was quiet, blanketed in the dry gold of dying grass and flanked by the skeletal limbs of the Whomping Willow, which stood still in the crisp air, its usual menace subdued by the season.

Ino walked slowly along the path, familiar with every stone and bend. Beside him, Hermione walked in silence, bundled up against the chill.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked, again.

It wasn't the first time she'd asked, and judging by the look on her face, she might ask again before long. Her voice was soft with worry. This Halloween, her boyfriend wasn't just attending the feast. He was planning something far more dangerous.

Ino chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

"You really need to relax. With any luck, I'll be back before the desserts are served. I might even bring you some sweets."

Hermione frowned, her brows knitting. "Just promise me you'll be careful. If anything happens to you, I don't exactly have a backup plan. I don't have a mentor. I don't have golden apples tucked away in a chest. The only thing I do have is a rickety portal to Arad."

She said it half in jest, but the concern was real. Though she had inherited the old sanctuary, its mysteries had thinned. All that remained was a lone path to the continent of Arad. As for the magical valley that had once sheltered so many, she could no longer force open the little tavern door that had once been a gateway.

"I'll be fine. I promise," Ino said, cutting through the melancholy with a grin. "Besides, Professor Dumbledore is coming along as my special correspondent. How bad could it get?"

At the mention of Dumbledore, Hermione visibly relaxed. There was something about that name that carried a quiet sort of power. It made even the most chaotic situations seem a little more manageable.

Walking by the lake on a cold autumn day might not be everyone's idea of a good time, but the chill didn't seem to bother them. In fact, there was something oddly comforting about it.

Hermione glanced out over the frosted water. Her breath clouded in the air.

"I wonder how Odette is doing," she murmured. "Do you think we'll ever go back?"

Her voice was wistful. She stared across the lake as though searching for the swans and wild ducks from a long-forgotten story.

"Of course," Ino answered without hesitation. "Once Halloween is over, I'll try to take you back into The Ugly Duckling."

Hermione blinked. "Wait. We can still go into that story?"

"Sure we can," Ino replied. "Hans didn't die. He just went to sleep. And we have an invitation, remember?"

Hermione's eyes widened as the memory returned. "The feather."

"Exactly. Odette's feather. If you still have it, that story will let us in again."

Over the past few weeks, after several long conversations with Wilhelm, Ino had grown more familiar with the workings of that peculiar little tavern that opened to different worlds. Especially after Jacob planted the mysterious seed he had taken away.

Some rules had become clear. Returning to a story was possible if you had left behind something meaningful. Or, perhaps, if the protagonist had given you a gift. In Odette's case, her feather was more than a memento. It was a key.

And then there was something else Ino remembered - a brass key that had nearly been forgotten. A gift from Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, left to him as the story of Middle-earth had drawn to a close. That key, shaped like the one to Bag End, was not simply a prop. It was a gleaming, golden invitation to return.

Of course, the passage to Middle-earth had vanished when the valley shifted. But Ino still remembered his friends - Lina, the spirited stowaway, and Doris, who might still be wandering somewhere in the dark forests. He had never said a proper goodbye.

They walked on, chatting idly, until smoke rising from chimneys in the distance caught their eyes.

Two small cottages stood there. One belonged to Hagrid. The other to Mad-Eye Moody.

"Why do you think Hagrid never uses magic?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

It was true. No matter how many years had passed, Hagrid always relied on his enormous hands, never a wand.

"Hagrid and magic," Ino muttered, pausing to rub his temple. "That reminds me…"

With everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten about Hagrid's past.

In the original story, back in second year, when the basilisk was slain, Hagrid was finally cleared of the accusations that had hung over him for fifty years. But in this timeline, although the creature had been dealt with, no one had made it public. Its remains had long since been harvested for rare alchemical ingredients.

Without the newspaper coverage and official attention, Hagrid's name had never been cleared. His wand had never been restored. On paper, he was still the half-giant expelled from Hogwarts and forbidden from practicing magic.

It was a terrible oversight.

"I'll fix it tonight," Ino said quietly. "It's been too long since I wrote to Fudge anyway."

He stood on the brittle yellow grass, watching the distant figure of Hagrid shuffling about his yard. The man was carefully moving an enormous pumpkin, large as a baby troll, to the side of the garden. Though his beard hid most of his expression, there was a bounce in his step, a visible lightness that suggested he was content.

"Is there really a reason Hagrid doesn't use magic?" Hermione asked again, catching on the moment she heard Fudge's name.

"There is," Ino nodded. "But it's all just a misunderstanding. A mistake that was never corrected."

He turned to her with a soft smile.

"Thank you, Hermione. If you hadn't asked, who knows when I'd have remembered. Fixing old mistakes… that's part of what stories are for, isn't it?"

She didn't reply at first. She stood still on the grass, her scarf fluttering slightly in the breeze.

"I want to know everything about it," she said at last, eyes alight with curiosity.

The Gryffindor spark had returned.

Time, as always, refused to wait.

Three days passed in a blink.

On the morning of Halloween, Hogwarts was alive with excitement. The magical world outside, too, seemed unusually calm. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

But when the owls arrived at breakfast, one enormous bird dropped a single envelope onto Hagrid's plate.

Moments later, the half-giant's bawling could be heard echoing from the edge of the forest to the castle doors.

It wasn't sadness.

It was joy.

Inside the letter was a long overdue apology, a gleaming new wand, and seventy-five Galleons and twelve Sickles in compensation.

From the porch of his hut, Moody watched the scene unfold with a faint smile on his scarred face. He sipped from a mug and lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet.

At the bottom corner of the front page, just three inches wide, was a bold little headline.

"Fifty Years of Injustice Ends"

And in that moment, somewhere between the tears, the pumpkins, and the frost on the grass, something old had finally been made right.