AN: Yes, I am still writing for this story. It just takes a while to get good material out, and I've found that the time between interesting points in the plot are very hard to fill in. Virtual (and nonexistant) cookies to those of you who understand where I'm coming from. And before you pervs get out of hand, that little pictogram scene break after quidditch is first mentioned is meant to be a flying bludger. Nothing else. Bonus cookies to those that like my other story as well. Onward!

It had been nearly two months since term had started and Harry had decided that, while he immensely enjoyed learning about magic, he dearly wished that a few of his subjects were a bit more interesting. A perfect example was History of Magic: while the topic of goblin wars and rebellions were fairly interesting material, once Harry had noticed that they had covered the Battle of Kleptroth's Keep three times, the lectures became very tedious very rapidly. He harboured a similar complaint about his herbology lessons.

Two months previous

On the first Wednesday morning after term had started, the first year Hufflepuffs had found themselves trotting across the grounds in the company of their Slytherin counterparts. It was the first lesson that they had shared with the green-clad children and so had been the first time Harry had had the opportunity to speak to Draco Malfoy since their encounter on the train. He separated from his own housemates and fell into line beside the blonde and his two companions.

"Hello, Draco. How's your term been so far?"

Draco grimaced. "It seems that several of our lessons have us sharing space with those obnoxious Gryffindors. I tell you: they're a pain in the arse, the lot of them!"

Harry laughed. "Well I can see you not liking Weasley, dolt's as loud as they come, but surely there're some who aren't too bad."

"If there are, we haven't noticed. Ugh," he groaned, "I'm probably going to get killed in potions if Longbottom keeps sitting so close to us."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. He had assumed that since Neville had been wizard-raised he would be at least competent. "Neville's bad at potions?"

One of the girls nearby, a blonde one, snorted with suppressed laughter. She turned from her gaggle of girls and said, "Of course! The lummox melted his cauldron in our second lesson while we were brewing a strengthening solution!"

The blonde and her cohort burst into giggles and turned back towards the doors to the greenhouse, waiting for their professor to call them in. Draco chuckled a bit as well. "I'll admit it: it was highly entertaining to watch while Longbottom's robes dissolved and he started panicking before he realised he was wearing trousers underneath."

The two rather large boys behind Harry grunted with amusement, then started pantomime what was obviously supposed to be Neville in terror. Draco watched them gambol about for a moment before saying: "Oh, I haven't introduced you. These are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. We're old friends."

Harry and the two large boys nodded to each other briefly before Crabbe and Goyle resumed their little skit. "You don't make fun of Neville like this all the time, do you?"

Draco turned to look at Harry. "Not really, just when he's around or when someone mentions potions. Why?"

Harry shrugged. "He's a friend."

The doors to the greenhouse opened and the students began to file inside. Draco harrumphed, then: "Oh, all right. We'll stop; it was starting to become rather boring anyway."

"Thanks." Harry and Draco sat at a table about in the middle of the room, just ahead of Crabbe and Goyle. Once Harry was inside, he noticed that the greenhouse was sectioned off. The area in which the students sat was relatively bare: only a few racks of gardening tools lined the walls and any plants were small and in pots off to the side. Harry could also see that there was a door opposite the entrance, presumably that was where all of the important plants were kept.

"Alright everyone, let's all put away our bags so we may begin!" Professor Sprout was a short woman, only a few inches taller than Harry was himself, but had a kind and jovial face. Her voice was bubbly and Harry hoped that that would mean a pleasant start to what was essentially a gardening lesson.

"Now ," the stout woman continued, "I'm Professor Sprout and this is Greenhouse One; where we will be spending the rest of term. So long as you follow all of the safety precautions I give you, you should be fine. Now, I want you to repeat each rule as I say it. Rule Number One: Do not eat any of the plants here, under any circumstances."

And Back Again

After the few initial lessons it became rather routine for them to be repotting different plants and taking notes as to what species thrived under what conditions. While obviously interesting to some, like Neville, the bescarred boy had quickly become bored. On the other hand, a few of his lessons had become more interesting as they had gone on; like his most recent transfiguration lesson. The students had advanced from changing a stone into a button to making a needle out of a match. Harry had found that he had a knack for the subject; the only people who seemed to pick up the lessons faster were Susan Bones and Hermione.

Harry looked up from his breakfast once he noticed that the general tone and colour of the many conversations in the Great Hall had changed from their usual. He turned toward a year mate of his. "Hey, Susan, what's everyone on about?"

Susan turned in her seat, away from the conversation she had been part of and gave Harry a quizzical look. "Don't you know what day it is?"

Harry shook his head: the only holiday he could remember to be this time of year was Guy Fawkes Day, and he was fairly certain that wizards wouldn't celebrate a muggle terrorist being caught. Even then he wasn't too certain he knew what date today was, exactly. Susan laughed. "It's All Hallows Eve, everyone here celebrates it."

Harry was confused. "They celebrate a religious holiday?"

He felt an elbow poke him gently in the ribs, so turned to see an older boy smiling. "It's based on the old traditions, you know; Samhain and all of that. I'm Cedric Diggory by the way."

Cedric held out his hand. Harry shook it. "Harry Potter. So, why's everyone so excited?"

"We get the day off, that's why. That and everyone's mum sends them sweets." His eyes widened. "Ooh, sorry…"

Harry waved him off. "S'alright. I don't remember, so I don't miss them."

The section of Hufflepuff around the two became very quiet. Harry decided to break the silence with: "Okay, we have the day off. What's there to do for fun?"

Cedric laughed. "Well, for you firsties, nothing. When you're in fourth year like us, you can go to Hogsmeade and shop around a bit. There are a few places to eat there too, so it provides some variety."

"So, we need permission to go to… Hogsmeade, was it?"

Cedric nodded. "Yea, your par-guardians sign a slip and you can go in third year, like I said. You could try Quidditch, though."

He looked at Harry as though evaluating his merit. A few seconds passed before Harry asked: "Sorry again, but what's Quidditch?"

===o

"Alright, so maybe you're not suited for the game."

"No, and I'll thank you to never speak of it again."

Harry and Cedric were exiting the hospital wing after having the younger boy's arm repaired.

"Now, come on, I've had bones mended by Pomfrey. It's not that bad." Harry glanced at the older boy bewilderedly as the duo made their way toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"She had me down a numbing potion, then she grabbed my arm, twisted the bones 'round, and then felt out the jagged edges through my skin while I watched! I was sick! How is that not bad?" Cedric shrugged.

"She didn't need to re-grow your pelvis overnight. I've seen it happen: not pretty." Harry's face became green for the third time that day at the thought, which was unfortunate as the scents of several different rich foods assailed the pair as they entered the hall.

"Well, go get something to eat. You'll feel better." Harry nodded as he headed towards his year mates.

Under his breath though: "Bloody wizards and their sports. Mad, the whole lot."

Harry had spent most of the rest of his day reading A History of Magic with Hermione in a quiet courtyard. When Professor Binns wasn't slogging through the material with a monotonous voice, it was actually quite an interesting read. Most history books that Harry had read contained dry, factorial, looking-back writing; this, on the other hand, was a collection of the discoveries of the magical historian who wrote it: one Bathilda Bagshot. These discoveries included letters, maps, conjecture based on handed-down stories of old families… Needless to say, reading the translation of goblin battle-plans to hold Kleptroth's Keep beside the journal entries of opposing battle-mages was infinitely more interesting than just learning that a conflict had occurred.

Harry had often spent his time on weekends with either Hermione or Neville, or both, in the library or on the grounds, respectively. Neville would usually like to walk on the edges of the forest to admire mosses or other plants, and Hermione really just liked to read no matter the locale so long as it wasn't too bright. The day had been somewhat cloudy, though, and so he and Hermione had taken the opportunity to read outside in the dimmed light.

Just as Harry was going to ask whether or not Hermione had noticed that the Goblin word for 'king' read similar to the English word 'muck,' when a faint voice drifted in from the open arch between them. They each leaned out to investigate and the words became clearer.

"Yea, and transfiguration's so easy with those 'Claws about. Always muttering tips they are." An unknown dark-skinned boy was walking alongside a few other Gryffindors, Neville not among them, a scant two dozen feet away. The redheaded one, Ron Weasley, snorted.

"Yea, s'alright, except that Granger bird; always trying to tell me what to do," his voice became higher, "'It's a jab, not a wave!' Honestly! What a nightmare!" The other boys laughed.

Harry turned to Hermione, but she was already rushing away, a soft sob reaching him as she entered the castle.

Harry sat at the Hufflepuff table while only half paying attention to what he was eating. The raven-headed boy had followed Hermione as best he could, but had lost her somewhere on the second floor. As he placed what might have been asparagus into his mouth he heard a voice say: "-so awful, she was crying in that loo in the west wing. I don't know what's gotten into her."

Harry whipped his head around to see Hannah Abbot in conversation with the other first year Hufflepuff girls. "Excuse me, but who was crying?"

Hannah turned. "Oh, sorry Harry. It was your friend, that Granger girl; she's gone and shut herself up in the girls bathroom on the second floor. Do you know what's made her so upset?"

All of the girls leaned in to hear the answer; Harry nodded glumly. "She and I were out on the grounds when a couple of Gryffindors walked by. They were talking badly about her."

Susan Bones turned in her seat to face the Gryffindor Table. "Which ones?"

"That lot down near the entrance, the one with that Weasley git." The group he had identified chose that moment to begin laughing uproariously, spilling several drinks as one of their own managed to detonate the contents of his cup. Megan Jones shook her head exasperatedly.

"Boys." The others nodded in agreement, though on what Harry had no idea. He cleared his throat before addressing the gaggle again.

"So, do you think that you could look in on-" A loud bang stopped all conversation in the hall; the students and faculty alike snapped their collective attention to the great double doors, where Professor Quirrel had stumbled through. He tottered in a few steps before whimpering out: "T-t-troll, i-in the d-du-dungeons. Thought you o-ought to know."

Then he fainted. A moment passed before students began to panic, the noise of hysterical children growing louder by the second before another loud BANG echoed through the hall and Professor Dumbledore shouted "Silence!"

All motion ceased.

Dumbledore rose; his face was as stone and he seemed all of seven feet tall. When he spoke again, his words were heard by all. "Prefects, return your houses to their dormitories. Staff, Head Boy and Girl, follow me to the dungeons."

His purple cloak billowed as he spun on his heel, the faculty following him out of a side door. Across the four tables prefects were calling out: "Quickly, now" and "Stay together" were common orders. In the entrance hall the throng of students broke into distinct streams as they made their way to their respective common rooms. Harry was passing by the Ravenclaws when his eyes widened. He quickly ducked out of the mass and sprinted towards an unused door. He was about to make his way to the staircase on the other end of the hallway when someone grabbed his arm. Harry turned, only to see Neville Longbottom holding his sleeve. "Wha-?"

Harry didn't get to finish his question. "Are you mad," asked Neville, "there's a troll out, what're you doing?"

Harry shook his sleeve from the other boy's grip. "Hermione's in the girls loo on the second floor, she doesn't know about the troll." Neville's eyes widened.

"Let's go!" Harry began running for the staircase, slightly relieved to hear Neville's steps just behind him. As they stepped onto the landing of the second floor Harry noticed an odd smell before freezing in place next to Neville; both boys dumbstruck as a massive rocklike backside of something in a loincloth that could only be the troll entered a room on the far end of the hall. Then they heard a crash, and a scream.

"Hermione!"

They both shouted as they resumed their sprint, arriving at the door just in time to see the grey behemoth raise a massive club and utterly pulverise another one of the stalls, Hermione's feet just visible crawling from one cubicle to the next.

"What do we do!" Neville shouted, worrying at his hair in dismay. Harry glanced around wildly then plucked up a piece of porcelain the troll had broken; he lobbed it as hard as he could, straight at the thing's head, only to see it connect with a dull clunk before falling to the floor and shattering. The troll froze.

In a bathroom that was half destroyed, water leaking out from under the remains of several stalls, the troll turned to face the puny children who dared to bother it. The beast was at least twelve feet tall and easily half that at its widest. Dull, stupid eyes blinked out from underneath a heavy brow and bald head. Its skin was grey and stony, teeth like broken rock. The creature bellowed and swung its club. Harry and Neville dove to either side, causing the troll to crack the floor instead of their skulls. "Outside," cried Harry, "we need to get it away from Hermione!"

Neville wasted no time in talking, instead bolting out of the open door closely followed by Harry. The troll roared again and lumbered after them; the windows shook from the thunderous impacts of elephanntine feet. The two were halfway down the long hall before the troll had made its exit from the room and Neville half whispered, half whimpered, "What now?"

Harry was at a loss, his mind blank. The troll was trundling towards them, picking up speed. He raised his wand and shouted the first spell that came to mind: "Inscis!"

A short arc of magic flew from his wand and hit the troll squarely in the face. The creature dropped to its knees and howled, fumbling at its ruined eye. Harry's mind suddenly spat out a solution. He glanced upwards. "Neville, use the cutting spell on that chain, hit the middle!"

Neville looked up as well, taking aim. The troll had skidded to a stop directly underneath a large wrought-iron chandelier, one with a rather large and sharp-looking spike on its underside. He and Harry incanted at the same time "Inscis!"

A much more visible arc flew through the air, their combined spell leaving ripples in its wake as it sliced cleanly through the metal links in one go. The chandelier dropped like a stone, plunging the pointed underside deep into the troll's skull and then dragging the beast's torso to the floor underneath the weight. The boys stood a moment as the dust settled and a pool of blood began to form, stunned by the grisly success, then rushed towards the bathroom. Harry called out again as they entered, "Hermione!"

A faint squeak came from the stall at the end of the room. Harry opened the door to find Hermione, covered in wood chips and a bit of water. She flung herself against him, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry turned them around so that he faced Neville while gesturing at the crying girl with a look of alarm. Neville looked just as hopeless as Harry did. A moment later several teachers burst into the lavatory. Professor McGonagall was the first to speak: "What is going on here!"

Harry tried to turn to face her, but Hermione was wrapped quite firmly around his neck at that point and he teetered dangerously. He gave it up as a bad job and shrugged. Neville picked up the slack. "We-we c-came to find Hermione. H-Harry said that she was in this bathroom and w-wouldn't know about the troll."

Harry had managed to turn so that he faced the flabbergasted professor when she asked: "And how did Mister Potter know that Miss Granger was here?"

"I overheard some of the girls in my house talking about it. She was in here because that Weasley bloke in Gryffindor upset her. We came to warn her about the troll."

"An' so why is there a dead troll outside of this room then?"

Harry and Neville glanced at each other. "We drew its attention away from Hermione, it was chasing us. We used Professor Flitwick's cutting spell to drop the chandelier."

By this point several other professors had entered the bathroom. Sprout looked alarmed, Flitwick proud, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. The aged man stepped forward. "As well done as could be done by first years. You put the safety of another before your own. Each of you take ten points for your houses. Now, I think I may have something to help Miss Granger."

Dumbledore drew his wand and flicked it. Hermione instantly loosened her grip on Harry, smiling contentedly. The white-haired mage smiled again. "A slight cheering charm to help with the shock. Professor Flitwick, if you would be so kind as to escort the young lady to your common room? And you boys should head off to your own houses as well; it's not good for growing boys to stay up too late past curfew!"

8*8*8*8*8

Two weeks later found the students of Hogwarts in the middle of November; the air chilled and the faintest hints of frost began to make themselves known on the tops of the taller towers. After the events of the Halloween fiasco Harry found that Hermione had become very attached to both him and Neville, him moreso than the other boy. He found that every free moment that the two could feasibly be in proximity, they were; Harry was absolutely befuddled as to why. Not that he was complaining, he enjoyed having such close friends: she and Neville always had something to do if no homework was in need of doing, usually either examining some new moss or algae or spending time in the library. Harry had even, upon seeing few people in Ravenclaw talk to Hermione for any length of time, invited her to sit next to him at the Hufflepuff table after asking Professor sprout if he was allowed to do so.

"Why of course she can," the rather cherubic teacher had replied, "there's always room for one more at my House's table!" And so it was that, on a bright Saturday morning, Hermione was the first to notice that Harry had gotten a letter. He had been tucking into a bit of fried egg when she had nudged his shoulder.

"Harry, I think that owl's for you." Harry looked up; indeed, the owl did seem to be gazing as him expectantly. When it noticed that he had seen it, the bird hopped over a plate of sausages and extended a talon tied to which was an off-white envelope. Harry hesitantly untied the parcel and then offered the bird a strip of bacon. The owl screeched, and as Harry flinched it snatched the morsel out of his fingers with its beak and flew off. Hermione huffed.

"Well, that was rather rude." She pouted a bit before turning to Harry. "So, who is it from?"

Harry read the letter twice before handing it to Hermione and walking towards the Head Table. She read:

Harry,

My name is Rita Skeeter and I was wondering if I might ask a favour of you. I was told by a very good friend of mine that a troll managed to enter Hogwarts on Halloween., my how frightening! I was also told that you single-handedly held off the beast until the teachers arrived just in time to see you finish it off, oh how brave!

The favour I ask is that you would be so kind as to write down the story as you remember it and send it to me so that I might be able to put the story in the Daily Prophet; I'm sure you would love to see your name in print, I know I did the first time I saw mine! By the by, could you also include an autograph? I know you must be asked at all hours of the day, but I would very much appreciate having your signature.

Sincerely yours,

Rita Skeeter

Hermione had finished reading the letter for the third time before Harry returned with Dumbledore following closely behind with a slight frown. Harry wordlessly gestured for the parchment before handing it to the Headmaster. The old man's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he read. "Ah, I see." His genial smile returned. "Am I to take it, then, that this kind of mail makes you uncomfortable, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I, I've never known anyone in the press before. I don't know if I should reply, should I?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment before speaking. "Do you want to? I can understand that you might want to, as they say, 'bask in the glow' of your accomplishments. Certainly this would make for rather fantastic reading: everyone from Hogsmeade to Diagon Alley and beyond would be talking about your exploits for months to come."

Harry's eyes widened. "No! No, er…" He looked down, sheepish after his outburst. "I don't really want any extra attention. I've had enough of that already."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled at Harry in approval. "Shall I send a letter to Miss Skeeter and the Daily Prophet to say that you have no comment on the matter and that they please refrain from any similar correspondence?"

Harry was relieved; he inhaled slowly and deeply before saying: "I would like that very much, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you."

The old wizard nodded slowly, still smiling, and then returned to the staff table. Harry fell into his seat, sighing gratefully as he bit into a bit of hash. Hermione looked at him quizzically. "I didn't think that being in the newspapers would bother you so: you're in several books already."

Harry took his time to respond, finishing off his plate before saying: "Just the thought of having my story read by so many people, having people older than me talking about it for weeks on end…" Harry shuddered. "I don't think that I'd like being at the centre of attention. I'd rather be off to the side and happy, thank you."

Hermione's next round of questions was interrupted by Neville's unexpected and sudden presence at the table. "Gee, Harry, I didn't know you knew Dumbledore!"

"I don't. We were talking about a letter." Harry recounted, more or less, what had been in the writing. Neville frowned.

"My Gran's talked about Skeeter;" he said, "She reckons the woman's a menace. Wrote that horrible thing in the paper about how the goblins are getting lax at Gringott's because someone managed to get into a vault." Harry looked at Neville askance.

"Someone broke into a Gringott's vault? They're mad."

"Yea, that's what gran said. Skeeter took it all out of context though: the vault was empty and unguarded, one of the ones people use temporarily. The only reason she made any fuss over it was because it was one of the celebrity vaults, the seven-hundreds." Hermione blinked confusedly.

"What does the number matter?" Neville shrugged.

"We like the number seven, the seven hundred vaults are used by old families for trust vaults and celebrities use them for luck. I think Gilderoy Lockheart has vault seven-hundred-seventy-seven. Lucky blighter." Harry snorted laughter into his toast and eggs.

"Anyway, I thought that you'd gone up there to talk to Hagrid." At this both Harry and Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion.

Hermione managed to find her voice first. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Neville shrugged. "I dunno, he asked me yesterday to tell Harry that if he ever wanted to know more about his parents, Hagrid knew them pretty well."

Harry froze momentarily whilst refilling his plate. "Well," he said in a slightly strained voice, "I guess we should join Hagrid for tea, then?"

Several people had decided to take advantage of the pleasant weather and spend the day outside; many figures could be seen flying over the quidditch pitch while other students relaxed by the lake to the south. Harry even recognised several of his housemates playing some form of sport on a by-the-way hill on his trek to meet Hagrid, accompanied by Hermione and Neville. Hagrd's home had turned out to be just on the edge of the forbidden forest, northeast of the castle proper. The hut, for a hut though it most certainly was, was massive. Easily every bit of twenty feet tall at the point of the circular roof, and nearly forty feet across at the base. After recovering a bit from the scale of the building, Harry knocked on the rather intimidating large door. After a moment it opened and Harry realised why the hut was so large: Hagrid was a giant of a man, easily twelve feet tall and almost half of that wide at the shoulder. The bearded man looked down at the three visitors and smiled, crinkling what little skin was visible around his eyes through the mass of shaggy hair. A voice managed to make its way through the beard: rough and low, but kind.

"Ah, been wonderin' if ye'd be down terday. Fancy a cuppa?" The giant gestured through the door and Harry, after glancing to his two companions, entered. The students found themselves in a simple home: there was only the one room filled with a table, a few chairs, a massive bed, and a hearth with a low fire smouldering underneath a large cast-iron kettle. Hagrid settled into the largest chair around the table after setting a pot of tea on to boil.

"Ahh," he groaned, "Tha's better." He seemed content to just sit for a moment before starting suddenly.

"O' sorry, didn't introduce meself: Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' the Keys and Grounds o' Hogwarts. Pleased ter meet yer again, Harry." He held out a massive, spadelike hand and Harry took it and shook.

"You know me?" Hagrid grinned.

"Oh, yea, known you fer a long time now, bu' we'll get ter that inna minute. I know Neville here, he helps me ter find some herbs on the edge of the forest now an' again, but who're you?" He asked kindly, looking to Hermione. She gulped nervously.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Oh, now, don't be nervous around' me; just Hagrid'll do jus' fine. Now then," he turned again to Harry, "Abou' how I know ye. Well, I suppose it starts wit yer parents bein' here at Hogwarts. I met 'em when they was first crossin' the lake, like you lot. Yer da' and one of his mates were inna boat wit me on the crossin. Kept tryin' ter dunk each other inter the water. Had ter hold 'em by the scruff o' their robes till we made landfall." Harry grinned a bit in spite of himself, this was the first time anyone had ever spoken of his parents out loud and it was good to hear someone remember them fondly. Hagrid seemed to be enjoying himself as he continued.

"Yer dad caused all sorts o' mischief in his day, earned more detentions wit' me than any other student in all my years. Kept trying' ter sneak off inter the forest for one odd reason or other. Anyway, got on friendly terms wit him through his detentions; didn't really know yer mum until 'bout her sixth year when he brought 'er with 'im on walkabouts o' the grounds." A whistle sounded from near the fire.

"Oh, hold on, tea's done." Hagrid lifted himself out of the chair, the wood underneath his hands protesting as he did so, and retrieved the tea kettle from its perch by the fire. Harry noticed that the man didn't use any mitts to do so, but Hermione beat him to the point.

"Mr. Hagrid," she screamed "what on earth are you doing?" Hargid looked up from pouring the tea, startled.

"Nuffin, jus' getting' the tea out of the, oh!" He looked down at his hands after noticing Hermione's worried expression.

"Oh, don't you worry about' that; I reckon I'm put tergether a mite bit tougher than you lot are. Who wants tea?" Harry and Neville accepted their cups with silent thanks, but Hermione was watching Hagrid's hands as he served her. Harry knew from her expression that she didn't want to let the matter drop, so steered the conversation back on track.

"So, what about after my parents went to school? You said that you started as friends while they were here; did you stay in touch after they left?"

"Hmm? Oh, yea; more than' kept in touch; yer mum an' dad were fightin' You-Know-Who all through the war, same as me. We got inter a lot o' bad spots but yer parents always got us out again. Good people, they were. When they went inter hidin' cause they was gonna have you, tha' was the last time I saw 'em alive." Hagrid shook his head sadly. Then he brightened.

"Firs' time I met you, though, I was the one what pulled you outta the remains of yer house on that Halloween. You kept tryin' ter eat my beard." Hagrid and the others laughed as Harry pulled his face in mild disgust.

"Haha, yea, flew you probably over a hun'red miles to where I gave you ter Dumbledore. He was busy, like, gettin' everythin' back in order after You-Know-Who died. I was the only one 'e trusted ter do the job." Hermione perked up again.

"Why was that?" Hagrid chortled.

""Cause there's no one an' no thing what can stop me once I get goin'. S'also why he had me go ter Gringott's to get-" Hagrid blanched and stopped mid-sentence. Hermione latched on, probing for information.

"To get what?" Hagrid shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, nope. I'm not telling' you lot tha'. Tha's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel, tha' is." Hagrid's eyes widened again.

"Oh, look at the time, it's really goin' you lot prolly have more ter do than sit aroun' guffin' wit an old blighter like me." He stood up and ushered the children to the door.

"Now, 'arry, anytime you feel like havin' a story 'bout yer parents, come on down and we'll have a cuppa. Bu' listen to me, you three: don't go meddlin' in Dumbledore's business, eh?" The three barely had time to nod before having Hagrid's door shut in their collective faces. Harry and Neville turned to look at Hermione, who had a very familiar glint in her eyes.

"Harry, I'll give you a galleon if you can guess what question is on Hermione's mind right now." Harry smirked.

"Is it: who is Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione didn't bother to chide her two best male friends, instead walking back towards the castle on an obvious mission to visit the library. Sighing exasperatedly, the two boys followed.