Right Now Could Last Forever

Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I glaring at her as she approached. She was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.

“... didn’t seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what’s he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights... what nonsense... he was always a bad liar. Reckon something’s up? Think we should do a bit of digging? Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Sports, Ludo Bagman...snappy start to a sentence, Bozo – we just need to find a story to fit it –“

“Trying to ruin someone else’s life?” said Harry loudly.

A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter’s eyes widened behind her jewelled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.

“Harry!” she said, beaming. “How lovely! Why don’t you come and join –?”

“I wouldn’t come near you with a ten-foot broomstick,” said Harry furiously. “What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?”

Rita Skeeter raised her heavily pencilled eyebrows.

“Our readers have the right to know the truth, Harry, I am merely doing my –“

“Who cares if he’s half-giant?” Harry shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with him!”

The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious of the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing. I admired Harry’s courage, but he really should learn to approach situations differently.

Rita Skeeter’s smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill and said, “How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?”

Hermione stood up very abruptly, her Butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it was a grenade.

“You horrible woman,” she said, through gritted teeth, “you don’t care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won’t they? Even Ludo Bagman –“

“Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. “I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... Not that it needs it –“ she added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.

“Let’s go,” I said, fighting to stop my lip from curling. “C’mon, Harry – Ron...”

We left; many people were staring at us as we went. I glanced back as we reached the door. Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backwards and forwards over a piece of parchment on the table.

“She’ll be after you next, Hermione,” Ron said, in a low and worried voice as we walked quickly up the street.

“Let her try!” said Hermione shrilly; she was shaking with rage. “I’ll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I’ll get her back for this, first Harry, then Hagrid...”

“You don’t want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter,” said Ron nervously. “I’m serious, Hermione, she’ll dig something up on you –“

“My parents don’t read the Daily Prophet, she can’t scare me into hiding!” said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all Harry, Ron and I could do to keep up with her. The last time I had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy around the face. “And Hagrid isn’t going to hide anymore! He should never have let that excuse of a human being upset him! Come on!”

Breaking into a run, she led us all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid’s cabin.

The curtains were still drawn, and we could hear Fang barking as we approached.

“Hagrid!” Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. “Hagrid, that’s enough! We know you’re in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can’t let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you’re just being –“

The door opened. Hermione said “About t-!” and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face to face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.

“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly, smiling down at us.

“We – er- we wanted to see Hagrid,” said Hermione in a rather small voice.

“Yes, I surmised as much,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Why don’t you come in?”
“Oh... um... OK,” said Hermione.

She, Ron, Harry and I went into the cabin, Fang launched himself upon me the moment I entered, barking madly and trying to lick my ears. I laughed and fended him off lightly, looking around.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry.

Hagrid looked up.

“’Lo,” he said in a very hoarse voice.

“More tea, I think,” said Dumbledore, closing the door behind us, drawing out his wand and twiddling it; a revolving tea-tray appeared in mid-air, along with a plate of cakes.
Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, “Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?”

Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her, and continued, “Hermione, Corey, Harry and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door.”

“Of course we still want to know you!” I said, staring at Hagrid. “You don’t think anything that Skeeter cow – sorry, Professor,” I added quickly, looking at Dumbledore.

“I have gone temporarily deaf and haven’t any idea what you said, Corey,” said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.

“Right,” I said, nodding. “I just meant – Hagrid, how could you think we’d care what that – woman – wrote about you?”

Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.
“Living proof of what I’ve been telling you, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. “I have shown you the letters from countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that, if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it –“

“Not all of ‘em,” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Not all of ‘em wan’ me ter stay.”

“Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I’m afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time,” said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. “Not a week has passed, since I became Headmaster of this school, when I haven’t had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?”

“Yeh – yeh’re not half-giant!” said Hagrid croakily.

“Hagrid, look what I’ve got for relatives!” Harry said furiously. “Look at the Dursleys!”

“An excellent point,” said Dumbledore. “My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I’m not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery...”

“Come back and teach, Hagrid,” said Hermione quietly, “please come back, we really miss you.”

Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard. Dumbledore stood up.

“I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday,” he said. “You will join me for breakfast at eight thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all.”

Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fang’s ears. When the door had been shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, “Great man, Dumbledore... great man...”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?”

“Help yerself,” said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Ar, he’s righ’, o’ course – yeh’re all righ’ ... I bin stupid... my ol’ dad woulda bin ashamed o’ the way I’ve bin behavin’...” More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, “Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here...”

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid’s crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid’s shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round and smooth – he looked hardly older than eleven.

“Tha’ was taken jus’ after I got inter Hogwarts,” said Hagrid, croakily. “Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh’ not be a wizard, see, ‘cos me mum... well, anyway. ‘Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in my second year...”

My heart ached a bit at the memory of losing my mother, only two years ago.

“Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Gives ‘em second chances... tha’s what sets him apar’ from other Heads, see. He’ll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s’long as they’ve got the talent. Knows people can turn out OK even if their families weren’ ... well... all tha’ respectable. But some don’ understand that. There’s some who’d always hold it against yeh... there’s some who’d even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an’ say – I am what I am, an’ I’m not ashamed. “Never be ashamed,” my ol’ dad used ter say, “there’s some who’ll hold it against you, but they’re not worth botherin’ with.” An’ he was right. I’ve bin an idiot. I’m not botherin’ with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones... I’ll give her big bones.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I looked at each other nervously.

“Yeh know wha’, Harry?” Hagrid said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright. “When I firs’ met you, you reminded me o’ me a bit. Mum an’ dad gone, an’ you was feelin’ like yeh wouldn’ fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an’ now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!”

He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, “Yeh know what I’d love, Harry? I’d love yeh ter win, I really would. It’d show ‘em all... yeh don’ have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don’ have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It’d show ‘em Dumbledore’s the one who’s got it righ’, lettin’ anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin’ with that egg, Harry?”

“Great,” said Harry. “Really great.”

Hagrid’s miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile. “Tha’s my boy... You show ‘em, Harry, you show ‘em. Beat ‘em all.”