Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Hagrid Reveals His Secrets

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when Harry, Ron, and Alexander left the common room and made their way toward Hagrid's cabin outside the castle.

As they descended from the sixth to the fifth floor, the moving staircase unexpectedly shifted, and the exit veered toward the fourth floor corridor—the entrance to the restricted section.

Normally, they could've just turned back, but unfortunately, Mrs. Norris spotted them. Moments later, before they had a chance to escape, Filch appeared and immediately started accusing them of attempting to sneak into the restricted area. He threatened to lock them in the dungeons.

Just as Alexander felt tempted to petrify the nosy old caretaker, Snape arrived.

"Filch? What's going on?" Snape asked in his usual slow, quiet drawl.

"Professor Snape, these students were trying to break into the restricted section," Filch reported quickly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Oh? From what I can see, it looks like they simply took the wrong stairway," Snape said calmly.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said quickly. "We were just heading to Hagrid's. I wasn't paying attention when the stairs shifted."

"That's right," Ron added, nodding earnestly.

Snape turned to Filch. "Anything else?"

Filch grumbled something under his breath, then hugged Mrs. Norris tightly and stalked off.

"Potter. Weasley. Make sure you return to your common room before curfew," Snape said flatly. He swept his long black cloak behind him and turned away.

As the three boys resumed walking, Ron exhaled. "Harry, I think Dudley might've been right. Snape has got something to do with your mum."

"But why?" Harry asked, still puzzled.

"Mate, don't know if anyone's told you this before," Alexander said, "but you look exactly like your dad—except your eyes. They're your mother's."

"Ah," Harry said slowly. "So Snape resents my dad and blames him for my mum's death. That's why he hates me."

"That must be it," Ron agreed.

Alexander just stayed quiet.

The trio left the castle and crossed the open grounds toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid's hut stood. A pair of rubber boots and a stone crossbow lay outside the door, just like always.

Alexander's gaze drifted to a crooked tree nearby—a spot he often used as a perch in his phoenix form. For a time, he'd observed Hagrid and the Forbidden Forest intensely, and much of what he discovered had helped in constructing the new Smith Castle.

Harry knocked. From inside came a shuffle, a low growl, and the sound of Hagrid trying to calm down Fang.

"Back, Fang! BACK!" came Hagrid's muffled voice.

After a few moments, the door creaked open just enough to reveal Hagrid's thick, tangled eyebrows and shiny black eyes.

He opened it wider and ushered them in, still gripping the collar of the massive black hound.

The cabin had only one room. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, and a copper kettle simmered on the brazier. In the corner sat Hagrid's massive bed covered in a patchwork quilt.

As soon as Hagrid let go, Fang avoided Alexander and instead tackled Ron, pinning him and licking his face enthusiastically.

"Fang's not nearly as fierce as he looks, is he?" Hagrid chuckled. "You're one of the Weasley boys, aren't ya?"

Ron, flustered, tried to pull his trousers up as Fang tugged them down playfully.

While Hagrid bustled about preparing tea, he placed a wooden plate of rock cakes on the table—infamous among students for their brick-like hardness.

"Good thing you're in Ravenclaw," Hagrid said, nodding to Alexander. "Your twin brothers nearly got themselves banned from the Forest. Spent half my life chasing them out."

"By the way, Hagrid, this is Alexander Smith," Harry added quickly, while eyeing the rock cakes with suspicion. His past experiences had made him wary.

Unlike Harry, Alexander munched on a rock cake calmly.

"A proper bad influence, that Harry Potter," Alexander mused inwardly.

"Oh—sorry I didn't recognize ya," Hagrid said, stroking his beard. "How's the cake?"

"Quite chewy. Beef filling with black pepper and onions?" Alexander guessed.

Impressed, Hagrid nodded, and the two began a deep discussion about cooking techniques, particularly how to prepare firm, springy dough. After much prodding, Hagrid finally relented and shared his recipe for achieving that perfect elasticity.

Harry, meanwhile, sat gloomily with Fang's head resting on his knee, a growing patch of drool soaking into his robe.

Ron had discovered a survival tactic: let the rock cake sit in your mouth until it softened, then scoop the filling out with your tongue.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hagrid finally asked, suddenly noticing his expression.

"We got stopped by Filch on the way here," Harry said, sighing. "Mrs. Norris spotted us and Filch accused us of sneaking into the fourth floor. Said he'd throw us in the dungeons if Snape hadn't shown up."

"Filch, that miserable git," Hagrid muttered. "And that cat—Mrs. Norris—is worse! Follows me everywhere when I come to the castle. Probably under Filch's orders. Can't stand either of 'em."

Harry and Ron laughed in agreement.

Although Alexander didn't like Filch either, he understood the man's frustrations. Hagrid, despite his good heart, often dragged in mud or broke things, and as a Squib, Filch couldn't use magic to fix the messes. Without enchanted cleaning tools, the poor man would have lost his mind long ago.

And Hagrid wasn't allowed to use magic either—his damaged wand couldn't repair what he broke.

"Wait—did you say Snape helped you?" Hagrid blinked in disbelief, interrupting Alexander's thoughts and nearly making him drop another rock cake.

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked, confused.

"Nothing. Just… nothing I should be saying," Hagrid said hastily, rubbing his beard again as his words trailed off.

Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances.

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