James woke early on Saturday morning and lay in bed for a few moments, thinking back over the week that had just passed.
The school days had been peaceful enough, with one notable exception. Harry Potter had as expected managed to become the Gryffindor Seeker, the youngest player in a century, resulting in gossip that had swept throughout the castle. The last few days of the second week had been spent with the Gryffindors strutting around in proud elation, the Slytherins furious and crying out favoritism at every opportunity, while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws watched the show with varying degrees of amusement.
The action in the school had definitely increased after the peaceful first week. Potter becoming Seeker had injected new energy into the traditional rivalry between the houses of snakes and lions. The tension was palpable in shared corridors and during meals, with pointed looks and muttered insults becoming more common.
James had also noticed Draco Malfoy prancing around like a peacock, proclaiming the superiority of his pure blood among the Hogwarts masses with all the subtlety of a firework display. The majority of Slytherin House shared his bigoted views, but at least most of them had the sense to be subtle about it. Malfoy seemed incapable of discretion.
It hadn't been mentioned in the books, likely because Harry Potter was self-absorbed enough that he had no idea what went on outside his own immediate circle of drama. But James had noticed the older Slytherins giving Draco looks of disdain and ridicule whenever he proclaimed what his father would hear about or threatened students with his family connections.
If he wasn't the brat of a high-ranking Death Eater and a wealthy, well-connected wizard, the older Slytherins would have likely taught him a lesson for the negative attention he drew to their house. As it was, they tolerated him with barely concealed irritation.
James's classes had been going well. Even Potions with Snape was manageable, with the professor mostly ignoring him as long as his work was competent. Terry and he had gotten into a comfortable rhythm as potion partners, with Terry following James's careful preparation methods and both of them producing acceptable results.
After hitting a roadblock on ancient magic knowledge, James had been concentrating on using intentional wandless magic the way he had as a child before he'd known it was actual magic. Raw will and power, no incantations or wand movements, just forcing his magic to accomplish what he wanted.
It had been going slowly. Very slowly. That is to say, he'd made no advancement whatsoever. But it hadn't even been a week. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe he'd solve mysteries that had persisted for a thousand years within days of starting to work on them.
His Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts studies had been progressing well. He made sure to complete all homework within the class itself or during History of Magic, when Binns' droning provided perfect cover for working on other things. Charms class he spent on spatial magic research, studying the intersection of Charms, Runes, and Arithmancy that made expansion enchantments possible.
He was pacing himself well. Out of his three personal projects, the rune puzzle and ancient magic research were going slowly with no clear path forward. So he'd decided to concentrate on the expansion charm project for now, something concrete with defined goals and methods.
Instead of working on the wooden chest of drawers he'd originally planned, he'd decided to make a bag first with expandable space. It was a better starting point, a basic expanded object that would teach him the fundamentals. His research had made it clear that this was just the beginning. He was far off from being able to create something like Newt Scamander's suitcase, because it was one thing to expand space but a completely different challenge to make it livable with proper environmental controls and sustainable ecosystems.
But a bag was manageable. A good first project.
Which meant he needed materials. Specifically, leather.
James climbed out of bed, went through his morning routine, and dressed in casual clothes suitable for walking the grounds. It was a crisp autumn morning.
He made his way out of the castle and across the grounds toward a squat stone cabin near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Smoke rose from the chimney, and a truly enormous boarhound was outside, sleeping in a patch of sunlight.
Hagrid's hut.
The building was rustic, to put it kindly. Stone walls with visible mortar, a thatched roof that looked like it could use repair, small windows with shutters hanging slightly askew. Practical rather than pretty, built for function and durability. Various tools leaned against the walls, axes and saws and equipment James couldn't identify. A vegetable garden occupied one side, surprisingly well-tended, and what looked like a chicken coop sat on the other.
James approached the door and knocked firmly.
Heavy footsteps sounded from inside, and the door swung open to reveal Hagrid's massive frame. The half-giant had to duck to fit through his own doorway, his wild hair and beard making him look like a friendly mountain.
"Hullo there," Hagrid said, his black eyes curious. "Can I help yeh?"
"Good morning, sir. My name is James Acton, first-year Ravenclaw. I was hoping you might be able to help me with something."
"Call me Hagrid, everyone does. Come in, come in!" Hagrid stepped aside, gesturing for James to enter. "Would yeh like some tea?"
"Yes, please. Thank you."
The interior of the hut was a single large room, cramped despite its size due to the amount of furniture scaled for Hagrid's massive frame. A enormous bed occupied one corner, a table and chairs that looked like they'd been built for giants dominated the center, and a fireplace large enough to roast a whole pig blazed merrily. Various animal parts hung from the ceiling, pheasants and rabbits, and the smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat filled the air.
Hagrid gestured James toward one of the chairs and busied himself making tea in a kettle that was larger than James's head. The boarhound had followed them inside and immediately investigated James with enthusiastic sniffing.
"That's Fang," Hagrid said. "He's friendly, jus' a bit enthusiastic."
James scratched behind Fang's ears, and the dog made a pleased sound before settling at his feet.
"So, what can I do fer yeh, James?" Hagrid set a mug of tea in front of him that looked more like a soup bowl.
"I'm working on a personal project for crafting. I want to make an enchanted leather bag, but to do it properly, I need to work with the materials myself from the beginning." James sipped the tea, which was strong and slightly smoky. "I've read that making and working the materials yourself helps them take enchantments more readily. The intent and effort you put in becomes part of the foundation."
Hagrid's eyes lit up with interest. "Heard abou' that, I have. Most students don' bother with that kind o' thing. Too much work when yeh can jus' buy somethin' or transfigure it."
"I'm a bit of an overachiever," James admitted. "But I want to do this right. The problem is, I need leather or a beast hide to work with, and I have no idea how to go about acquiring it. I was hoping you might be able to help me get something suitable. I'd pay for it, of course."
Hagrid was quiet for a moment, studying James with an expression that was surprisingly shrewd despite his generally jovial demeanor. "Don' see many students interested in real craftin'. Most jus' want ter learn the flashy magic, the light an' sparkle."
They just like the show, James thought with mild disdain, then immediately corrected himself. No, they're children. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes. There's nothing wrong with being interested in either the academic or showy aspects of magic.
"No need ter pay," Hagrid said finally. "Hogwarts has its own cattle for the kitchens. I can make sure yeh get a good hide, properly prepared. Come back ter see me in a few days, should have somethin' ready fer yeh by then."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I really appreciate it."
"My pleasure. Nice ter see a student interested in the practical side o' things." Hagrid refilled both their tea mugs. "So what else are yeh studyin'? Mus' be keepin' busy if yer already workin' on personal projects."
They settled into comfortable conversation. James asked Hagrid about the beasts he'd encountered in the forest, and the half-giant's face brightened with enthusiasm. He launched into stories about dragons he'd seen in Romania, hippogriffs he'd helped breed, and various other creatures he'd worked with over the years.
It was a fascinating discussion. Hagrid was extraordinarily knowledgeable about magical creatures, able to discuss their habits, diets, and behaviors with the kind of detail that came from genuine passion and extensive experience. His expertise was undeniable.
The only oddity was his absolutely abnormal belief about what was dangerous and what wasn't. He spoke about acromantulas and Hungarian Horntail with the same fond tone most people reserved for discussing puppies. Things that would kill James without a second thought were described as "a bit spirited" or "jus' misunderstood."
James mentally accounted for the difference in capabilities. Most things that could kill him would feel like a tickle to Hagrid physically, given the half-giant's enormous size and natural resilience. It made sense that their definitions of "dangerous" would be completely different. What threatened James was merely interesting to Hagrid.
They talked for over an hour, with Hagrid sharing stories and James asking questions about care techniques and behavioral patterns. Fang dozed at their feet, occasionally waking to beg for scraps when Hagrid pulled out some rock cakes that looked like they could double as building materials.
Finally, James glanced at his watch and realized how much time had passed. "I should let you get on with your day. Thank you again for the hide, and for the tea and conversation."
"Anytime, James. Anytime at all. Door's always open if yeh want ter talk about creatures or craftin' or whatever else. An' come by in three, four days. Should have yer leather ready by then."
James said goodbye to both Hagrid and Fang, then made his way back across the grounds toward the castle. The morning had warmed considerably, and students were beginning to emerge to enjoy the weekend weather.
He had leather sorted, or would in a few days. That meant he could start planning the actual construction of the bag in detail, working out the stitching patterns and the design that would best support the expansion enchantments he intended to layer onto it.