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Among the highly suspicious, deeply shady customers currently nursing their drinks in the Hog's Head Inn—many of whom kept their heavy hoods pulled low, looking exactly like the wanted "outlaws" they likely were—their strange, chaotic group of five was an incredibly bizarre breath of fresh air.
After all, as Aberforth Dumbledore knew intimately well, his establishment was primarily utilized as a neutral black-market ground for aggressively reselling various prohibited, highly illegal items, fencing stolen potions, and acting as a central hub where desperate wizards picked up highly shady, lethal small-scale side jobs...
Tsk tsk, Regulus thought cynically, casually looking around the pub from behind his silk mask. The Dumbledore family truly has an absolute, comprehensive political monopoly over the entire Hogwarts geographic area. Between Albus in the castle and Aberforth in the village, they flawlessly cover both the brilliant Light and the criminal Dark sides of society.
"Right, then. I'm Rubeus Hagrid—wait a minute..." Hagrid chuckled foolishly, his booming voice echoing in the quiet pub as he leaned forward, squinting at Alphard's handsome, thin face. His beetle-black eyes first narrowed in confusion, then suddenly widened in massive recognition. "By Merlin! I've definitely seen you before!"
Ah, of course, Regulus smirked. Who exactly at Hogwarts hasn't Hagrid seen at some point?
"Yes, you actually remember me? Because I certainly remember you too, Rubeus." Alphard showed a lively, genuinely warm smile, immediately recalling the distant past. "Back in the 1940s, when I was actively studying at Hogwarts, you were already living out there on the wild edge of the Forbidden Forest. You must have physically seen me a few times when I illegally snuck past your hut to go exploring deep in the woods for adventure."
"Uh, yes... aye, I reckon I did," Hagrid recalled slowly. He shifted uncomfortably in his massive chair, his massive hands nervously gripping the handle of the battered pink umbrella hidden deep inside his moleskin coat.
In 1942, a teenage Hagrid had been horrifyingly, unjustly expelled from Hogwarts and had his wand snapped. It was entirely because of the tragic death of his classmate, Moaning Myrtle, and the subsequent, highly manipulated political fallout regarding his Acromantula, Aragog. It was a deeply complex, tragic web of lies that Hagrid, to this very day, still couldn't entirely understand...
It was a deeply unpleasant, permanently traumatizing past that Hagrid could never truly escape from. In the late 1940s, he had lived entirely alone in a tiny wooden hut on the edge of the dark forest, completely full of heartbreaking longing and desperate envy as he watched the young little wizards happily attending the magical school he had been banished from. And to make matters worse, almost all the students at the time actively, fearfully avoided the 'dangerous half-giant monster'...
If it hadn't been for the unwavering, absolute political protection of Albus Dumbledore...
Regulus noticed Hagrid's sudden, profound physical unease. His dark eyes sank, turning cold behind his mask.
Hagrid was completely, maliciously framed and permanently blamed for murder by Tom Riddle, entirely because of his highly prejudiced Giant bloodline, Regulus thought furiously. And because of that psychopathic lie, Hagrid's wand was violently destroyed, and his magical education was permanently stolen from him.
This historical injustice absolutely must be rectified. I have to find a way to officially, legally clear Hagrid's name.
Regulus took a deep, calming breath, blinked to clear his dark thoughts, and began formally introducing everyone at the table to each other.
The subsequent social development of the meeting greatly, immensely reassured Regulus. These specific, vastly different people—who under normal, strictly segregated pureblood societal rules would absolutely never have met or chatted intimately—came together brilliantly, and there was absolutely zero awkward silence at the table.
The very first person who completely couldn't contain his sheer, fanboy excitement was the senior Quidditch fanatic and absolute broom enthusiast—James Potter.
"Uh... Mr. Black... is it alright if I also call you Uncle Al?" James asked, leaning entirely across the sticky wooden table. His hazel eyes were incredibly bright, completely filled with absolute, unadulterated love and burning passion. He probably already felt a deep, instinctual sense of familiarity from Alphard's striking physical resemblance to his best friend, Sirius. "Did you really... really travel all the way to Sweden just to officially participate in the annual international broom race?!"
Before Alphard could even nod to confirm, James's eyes didn't blink a single time, and he actually, physically held his breath in anticipation.
"Uncle Al even won a highly prestigious award in the primary racing division," Regulus smoothly interjected, seamlessly promoting his own uncle's legendary status from the side.
"Mate, that is so unbelievably cool!" James lightly waved his clenched fist in the air, his eyes becoming even more terrifyingly fervent.
Regulus could easily tell. This wasn't just polite interest; this was absolute, fanatic true love for the sport.
And another display of intense, fanatic true love came from the massive man sitting at the end of the table.
"I heard... well, uh, Regulus specifically mentioned to me on the walk down," Hagrid said, his booming voice dropping into a loud, highly excited whisper. He glanced quickly at Regulus, then looked directly over at Alphard with the exact same expectant, burning gaze as James. "Did you lads really... actually travel deep through the heavily restricted Scandinavian Dragon Sanctuary? And... and did you actually manage to get your hands on genuine, shed Dragon hide?"
Alphard smiled and simply nodded. Without a single word of further ado, he casually reached deep into his heavy leather pocket. He pulled out a massive, shimmering blue, shovel-like object—roughly the size of an adult man's entire palm—and placed it gently onto the sticky wooden table with a heavy clack.
This was a completely pristine, naturally shed belly scale from a lethal Swedish Short-Snout Dragon.
The shimmering, iridescent silver-blue magical glow of the scale perfectly reflected in Hagrid's wide, watering black eyes.
"My sweet Merlin," Hagrid whispered reverently, his massive hands trembling slightly as he hovered them over the scale, too afraid to actually touch it. "A genuine Swedish Short-Snout..."
Everyone sitting at the table, as well as many deeply suspicious, highly observant eyes watching from the dark corners of the pub (including the intensely focused blue eyes of Aberforth Dumbledore behind the bar), gazed in absolute awe at this solemn, incredibly beautiful natural creation. Looking at the massive scale, it was easy to vividly imagine the terrifying, magnificent, lethal posture of the massive Dragon in its wild, freezing environment.
Looking at the glowing scale, Regulus suddenly, perfectly understood Hagrid and Charlie Weasley's deeply unhinged, suicidal love for dragons. Honestly, looking at this... I kind of desperately want to illegally raise one too!
Regulus cleared his throat, pulling the table back to the business at hand.
"Hagrid casually mentioned to me before that he frequently uses priceless, shed Unicorn tail hairs simply to bandage injured mundane animals in the forest," Regulus said, gesturing to the half-giant. "And hearing that incredibly wasteful fact instantly reminded me of something highly practical—the regenerative alchemical bandages Uncle Al explicitly invented!"
Alphard, perfectly understanding his cue, cooperatively reached into his magically expanded small pocket and pulled out a massive, tightly bound pack of glowing, light-yellow linen bandages. He always aggressively kept a massive supply of these highly advanced medical supplies stocked at his country home. With highly experimental, volatile Alchemy being his primary hobby, he predictably needed to use these magical burn bandages quite often.
"These specific bandages can not only be used for standard physical fixing and splinting," Alphard explained smoothly, pushing the pack across the table toward Hagrid. "But the alchemical runes woven into the linen actively, aggressively accelerate cellular wound healing. I guarantee their medical efficacy is absolutely no weaker than the highest-grade potions Madam Pomfrey uses in the hospital wing. I think this massive supply will be incredibly, practically useful for treating the wild creatures deep in the Forbidden Forest."
Hagrid sniffled loudly, inhaling something non-existent through his massive nose. He quickly dug his hand deep into his moleskin coat and pulled out a heavily rolled-up, violently crumpled piece of brown butcher paper.
A massive, incredibly thick bundle of smooth, soft, brilliantly glowing silvery-white long hair aggressively protruded from one torn end of the paper. Hagrid clearly wasn't very good at the delicate art of discrete packaging.
"I'm more than willin' ter formally exchange these with yeh for the bandages," Hagrid said shyly, his cheeks flushing red.
Honestly, Hagrid was primarily willing to aggressively break Dumbledore's rules and sneak out of the castle grounds with Regulus entirely because of the desperate promise of the advanced alchemical bandages for his animals, and the sheer, irresistible lure of hearing stories about wild Dragons.
Also, Regulus's highly manipulative, Slytherin way of verbally persuading the half-giant to break the rules was incredibly, ruthlessly effective:
(Flashback to Regulus's exact words: "Hagrid, my friend, I know you're deeply worried about the Headmaster's rules, but I definitely, absolutely have to sneak into Hogsmeade today for family business... So, logically, why don't you simply accompany me as my bodyguard? It'll be vastly safer for me, right?... But absolutely no, you can't tell anyone else about this. If my terrifying mother somehow finds out I secretly went to see my disowned Uncle Alphard, she'll definitely, violently ground me for life...")
But the final, absolute breaking point for Hagrid's compliance was simple: he really, genuinely liked Regulus. The boy was polite, respectful, and never once looked at him like a monster.
It turned out to be a massive, solid clump of pure Unicorn hair. It looked exactly like he had literally ripped an entire, thick section directly from the beast's tail! The master Alchemist Alphard immediately, professionally recognized the extreme quality of the magical core material. He simply hadn't expected... that there would be so incredibly many strands casually offered in a crumpled paper bag!
Seeing Hagrid aggressively push the greasy paper roll containing an absolute, literal fortune in precious Unicorn tail hair across the sticky table, Alphard actually felt a bit profoundly defeated by the half-giant's sheer, unadulterated "sincerity."
The entire pack of advanced alchemical bandages he had prepared was completely, mathematically not worth even a fraction of this much raw material wealth... Was this the legendary, utterly reckless Gryffindor generosity he had heard so much about?
Under the intensely jealous, wide-eyed gazes of the three little Gryffindor wizards at the table, Alphard sighed. He reached out and aggressively pushed absolutely everything on his side of the table—the massive pack of medical bandages, and incredibly, the priceless, shimmering blue Dragon scale—directly towards Hagrid.
"Okay, Hagrid. Thank you," Alphard said warmly. "In equal exchange, these are all entirely for you."
"Ah?! Really?!" Hagrid gasped, his massive hands gently, reverently picking up the Dragon scale in absolute disbelief. "Are yeh entirely sure about this, Mr. Black?!"
"I have plenty more Dragon scales locked up safely at home," Alphard said entirely indifferently, waving his hand. "And besides, I can easily just fly back to Sweden again next year to harvest more."
The overall direction of this secret, highly illegal gathering largely, rapidly devolved into Uncle Al's personal "celebrity fan meet-and-greet." James, looking incredibly respectful and uncharacteristically polite, couldn't wait to aggressively interrogate Alphard about the highly complex aerodynamic physics of his flying competitions down to the absolute last detail. And Hagrid excitedly spent the next thirty minutes deeply discussing highly dangerous, theoretical Dragon behavioral characteristics with Al.
"I've honestly always desperately wanted to try safely capturing and using the sheer heat of the blue flame of the Short-Snout Dragon for my advanced alchemical smelting experiments," Uncle Al sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "But unfortunately, they are far too aggressive in the wild; I simply cannot safely get close enough to their snouts to bottle the fire without being incinerated."
Hagrid looked on with deep, empathetic longing. He completely understood the struggle of wanting to pet a lethal monster.
"Well, maybe Hagrid actually can get close enough," Regulus suddenly interjected smoothly, planting a highly dangerous seed. "The half-Giant Hagrid possesses a legendary, almost supernatural biological talent for safely approaching and pacifying highly lethal magical creatures."
"Ahem. Right, then. There's actually another, highly important administrative matter I desperately wanted to formally discuss during this secret meeting with Uncle Alphard—" Regulus finally had to aggressively interrupt the heated, passionate conversation about dragon-taming.
When everyone at the table finally quieted down and looked directly at him, he continued, his voice dropping into his serious CEO tone.
"Most of you present here today already know my grand ambitions. I want to officially, aggressively start a highly exclusive, advanced Alchemy research group hidden within the school to actively learn exactly how to craft powerful magical items."
Regulus looked between the two adults. "I desperately hope to formally invite Uncle Al and Hagrid to act as our primary external mentors and our internal, on-grounds guardians. If you both agree to this highly illegal proposal... then this pub meeting right now will officially serve as the very first foundational meeting of our new corporate group."
"Mate, that is so unbelievably cool! Remus and I will definitely, absolutely join the group!" James instantly threw his arm heavily around Lupin's scarred shoulder. "Right, Remus?"
"Me? Uh... wait, an advanced Alchemy group?" Hagrid blinked heavily, almost doubting he had heard the translation correctly. He had absolutely never, in his wildest dreams, ever imagined that a half-giant dropout like him would ever be actively, academically involved with the elite science of Alchemy. "Wasn't this highly complex stuff strictly something only incredibly powerful, highly educated wizards like Professor Dumbledore actually did?"
"Of course not, Hagrid," Regulus nodded seriously, looking the giant dead in the eye. "Alchemy is the study of everything, and a massive, foundational part of alchemical crafting is directly, intimately related to safely harvesting parts from magical creatures. Hagrid, your vast, encyclopedic knowledge of magical creatures—putting absolutely everything else aside—is undeniably, infinitely more than enough to perfectly teach us the practical, lethal realities of Care of Magical Creatures."
"Oh... well... how could I possibly ever compare to the official curriculum of Professor Kettleburn?" Hagrid mumbled into his beard. However, a massive, incredibly proud smile and a deep red blush simultaneously spread rapidly across his entire, heavily bearded face.
Furthermore, while illegally operating inside the school, we desperately also need the official, physical guardianship of adult wizards to avoid expulsion, Regulus thought cynically to himself.
We desperately need unrestricted, safe access to the highly valuable raw crafting resources hidden deep inside the Forbidden Forest, and Hagrid's unique half-Giant taming talent is the absolute only way to get them without dying.
Additionally, on a more personal level, Regulus also deeply wanted his brilliant, isolated Uncle Al to finally meet more genuine friends.
As a canonical member of the Noble House of Black, Uncle Alphard's name was also traditionally taken from a star in the night sky. Specifically, a star in the constellation Hydra. And the word Alphard literally, tragically translates to "the solitary one" in ancient Arabic.
"I want to actively find significantly more brilliant, like-minded wizards to join us and research together," Regulus announced to the table, his eyes gleaming. "I've already paid a massive sum of Galleons to aggressively place a highly complex, runic puzzle-based advertisement—a hidden GG—directly in the classifieds of The Daily Prophet. Only those brilliant enough to actually mathematically solve the puzzle will be given the instructions on how to securely contact me."
Regulus sighed internally. He genuinely, desperately wished he could just aggressively bypass the puzzle entirely and send a recruitment letter containing a massive sack of gold directly to Mr. Arthur Weasley's Burrow.
But for now, this grand conspiracy would have to do. This time around, Regulus was absolutely determined to aggressively prevent his brilliant Uncle Al from tragically dying young, and he was determined to make entirely sure that Alphard the star was never, ever "solitary" again.