"See? Even Harry agrees!" Sirius snapped his fingers excitedly.
"So you've got to do it, Hagrid. Establish your authority as a professor! You can't just let the students walk all over you. You're the professor!"
"The more they push back, the more you push forward. If they don't listen, dock points! Take every last point from those Slytherins!" Sirius already had a full plan in mind. "Remus was right—students can't handle that book on their own. You've got to rub it in their faces why they're so clueless, why they can't even calm the thing down. Think about how Snape does it!"
"Er, heads like trolls?" Hagrid recalled hesitantly.
"Exactly! Then dock points!" Sirius punched the air. "Snape plays favorites with Slytherin, so you play favorites with Gryffindor! Lay into them! Show those Slytherins what it's like when their nasty head of house gets a taste of his own medicine!"
"That… doesn't seem right, does it?" Hagrid mumbled. "Professor McGonagall would be cross."
"She won't," Sirius paused, then grinned. "Okay, she might. But that's not the point! Do you think McGonagall, as Gryffindor's head, enjoys watching Snape pick on her house and dock their points? Would you be happy if you were her? She's deputy headmistress—she can't do anything about it!"
"I… I wouldn't be happy," Hagrid admitted in his deep, rumbling voice.
"Exactly!" Sirius filled Hagrid's goblet to the brim. "The problem is you're not like other professors. You're not like Remus. The students know you too well—they still see you as the gamekeeper! If you don't act strict, they won't take you seriously. They'll run wild in your class—especially those Slytherins!"
"…Yeah, those Slytherins," Hagrid muttered, taking a deep breath. "You're right. I get it now."
Hagrid wasn't drunk, which meant Sirius had actually convinced him while he was stone-cold sober.
Harry didn't stop the exchange. He just grinned as Sirius worked his magic on Hagrid. Sure, Sirius's motives weren't exactly pure—he just wanted to see Slytherin squirm. He'd pitched the same idea to Lupin before, but Lupin had shot it down. Still, Harry agreed Hagrid needed to command more respect—not the friendly kind, but the kind students give a professor, tinged with a bit of fear.
Otherwise, with Hagrid's soft heart, any troublemaker in class could send him spiraling into self-doubt, crushing his confidence entirely.
So… maybe learning a thing or two from Snape wasn't such a bad idea.
"By the way, Harry," Hagrid said suddenly, rubbing his hands together with a sheepish grin, "er, I was wonderin'… could I borrow Ragehorn? Just for a class demo, y'know—a dragon!"
"You do know Ragehorn's got the smarts of a human now, right?" Harry said, thinking it over. "I can ask her, but whether she agrees is up to her."
"'Course!" Hagrid beamed. "Just askin's enough. Thanks, Harry!"
"No problem, mate."
At Hogwarts, something unprecedented was happening, unseen in over a thousand years: the headmaster was attending classes. Officially, Harry was there to "observe" and ensure the professors were up to standard, but anyone with half a brain could guess the real reason he was there.
It was McGonagall's desperate suggestion, at least to make the excuse sound respectable.
The next morning, Harry sat with his friends as Hagrid's first lesson loomed. It was Care of Magical Creatures, second period, with Gryffindor and Slytherin together—a combination that always spelled trouble.
This was a massive test for Hagrid. Harry was curious to see how much Sirius's pep talk had sunk in.
As a friend, he had to cheer Hagrid on.
Hagrid's class was held at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, right by his hut. When the students arrived, Hagrid was already waiting at the door, one hand holding Fang's leash, with several open wooden crates at his feet. Fang was straining, desperate to sniff whatever was inside.
As Harry got closer, he heard an odd clattering noise from the crates, mixed with faint pops like tiny explosions.
"Morning!" Hagrid boomed.
It was hard to believe Hagrid could keep such a stern expression—at least, it looked stern. He didn't even come over to chat with Harry, Hermione, or the others, just stood rigidly in front of his hut until every student had arrived.
"Good. I'm pleased no one's late or absent," Hagrid said gravely after taking roll. "I won't tolerate anyone missing this—Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
"Ooh, he's channeling McGonagall," Ron whispered. "I know that tone all too well."
He wasn't the only one who noticed.
But the new term grabbed everyone's attention.
"What?" Hermione blinked, confused. "Blast-Ended Skrewts?"
"Ugh, disgusting!" Lavender Brown peeked into a crate, then leapt back as if bitten, shrieking.
And it was disgusting.
The crates were filled with slimy, pale-gray… things, like shell-less prawns. Their many legs stuck out at odd angles, heads impossible to spot, hundreds of them wriggling together. Every so often, sparks shot from their tails, propelling them forward with a stench like rotting fish.
"They move that fast?" Harry looked up, incredulous. "You've been at this for a while, haven't you?"
These Blast-Ended Skrewts were clearly a brand-new magical creature, bred by Hagrid himself. Officially, he'd only have the authority to create new species as a professor, but he'd just become one yesterday.
Which meant he'd started this project over the summer…
"Oh, just a tiny bit early," Hagrid said with a wink, lowering his voice. "Cute little things, aren't they?"
Ron, overhearing, looked like he was about to choke.
Hagrid's taste in creatures never failed to surprise his friends.
"Anyway, these are brand-new magical creatures, never seen before!" Hagrid announced proudly. "You lot get to raise 'em! I'll tell you now, your term project is to rear these Skrewts."
"Why?" a cold, sharp voice cut through the crowd.
"Merlin's beard, her again," Ron muttered, grimacing. "Ever since Malfoy stopped being such a git, Pansy's somehow taken his place."
"Maybe she was always this bad, and you were just too busy hating Malfoy to notice," Neville whispered.
"What?" Ron gaped at his friend. "You might as well hex me!"
"Why?" Hagrid looked puzzled, thrown off by the question.
"I mean, what are they good for?" Pansy pressed. "What's their use?"
Hagrid's mouth fell open. He'd braced for Slytherin trouble, but not this.
"They're—they're—" he stammered.
Harry kicked Hagrid's leg.
Rubeus Hagrid! Remember Sirius's advice!
The kick was hard enough to jolt Hagrid back to the moment.
"Slytherin, minus ten points! No, twenty!" Hagrid barked, channeling Sirius's coaching. "Disrespecting a professor! Ignoring my instructions!" He belatedly realized he should explain. "I already said they're a brand-new magical creature! Brand-new, got it?"
"And you have the nerve to ask what raising a new magical creature is good for?"
Pansy froze, stunned by the twenty-point loss. It was the first day of term—not even past noon, not even lunchtime—and she'd already cost Slytherin twenty points?
Then came the anger.
"How dare you!" Pansy screeched. "I'll tell Professor McGon— I'll tell the head—"
She stopped mid-sentence. First, she realized McGonagall wouldn't care. Then she noticed Harry, the headmaster, sitting right next to Hagrid, silently watching.
Tears welled up.
"I'll tell my father! He's on the board! He'll make sure you're never—"
"Shut it, you dung-filled troll!" Hagrid's roar cut her off, loud enough to echo to the castle. "Is your head stuffed with gillyweed? Your stupidity's clearer than a troll's snot!"
"Blimey, that's Snape," Ron said, pinching his leg to keep from laughing, his face red. "Never thought Snape's insults would hit so hard when shouted by a bloke like Hagrid."
"Yeah, same words, totally different vibe," Hermione said, biting back a grin. Other Gryffindors weren't as restrained, bursting into laughter.
For the first time ever, Snape's biting insults were being flung back at a Slytherin like a bucket of water.
"A brand-new magical creature!" Hagrid declared, brimming with pride. "Most wizards never get to discover one! Their habits, their preferences—these are things that'll go in new textbooks! This is nothing like your average Care of Magical Creatures class!"
Pansy looked ready to argue, but Draco, sitting nearby, flicked his wand, silencing her.
"Enough, Parkinson," Draco said coldly. "Stop embarrassing Slytherin. Professor, if we help you study these… new creatures' habits, will our names be included in the new textbook?"
"…Of course!" Hagrid answered quickly after a brief pause. "Absolutely! But only the best students—er, the ones who perform best—get that chance."
"Good." Draco nodded, saying no more.
But his words had done their job. The idea of having their names in a textbook—maybe even a note about discovering what these creatures liked to eat—lit a spark. Honor. After the Triwizard Tournament's glory, students were hungry for anything that could etch their names in history.
Hagrid had won them over. For now, the students stared at the slimy, spark-shooting creatures with eager eyes—a strong start.
"Right, Malfoy, for your… er, cleverness, Slytherin gets… ten points!" Hagrid's generosity with points made a few students cover their faces.
"If you don't want to be here, go back to the castle!" Hagrid snapped at Pansy, mimicking Snape's glare. "Care of Magical Creatures doesn't need someone who doesn't love magical creatures!"
That was Hagrid's true heart speaking.
"Everyone else, follow me. Like I said, these are brand-new creatures. Even I don't know what they like, what their personalities are, or what they hate. Today, we're going to try feeding them. Call it… exploring the unknown? I think you'll enjoy it."
"Oh, one more thing," Hagrid added suddenly. "Get your textbooks out. I want you to find something you think a Blast-Ended Skrewt might like to eat."
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