Week Four: The Great Adventure and Aftermath, An Alternative Perspective Production Options

[moonbeam3243]

This Forum is for WEEK FOUR stories, about your character's view point on the adventure Harry and Co. have and what happens afterwards.

[McGonagall's Cat]

<sheepishly... OK, let's try the correct year...>

Family and Friends

Fang let out a booming bark at the light knock on the front door.

“Who’s ‘ere?” Hagrid shouted as he quickly snatched the old quilt from his huge bed and covered the project he’d been working on on the table (leaving the room looking quite disheveled in the process).

“It’s me, Hagrid! Hermione,” was a bit muted by the thick door.

Hagrid visibly relaxed, smiling excitedly. “Her-mione-ee!” He rushed over and flung the door open. “Any word on young Harry?”

“Still in Hospital wing,” she said with an obvious tinge of concern colouring her comment. “There was so much gossip at the tables this morning, that I couldn’t tell if anyone was at all excited about going home. Most seemed simply panicky that Vold ~ oh Hagrid, don’t look like that! ~ that “he” might still be lurking somewhere in the castle.” She began to fumble around in her bookbag, which she had plunked down on one of the kitchen chairs, and eventually handed Hagrid a picture of herself, Ron and Harry. She had been particularly touched that the huge gentle man had asked her to bring it to him. Then she reached back into the bag and pulled out a square soft package that was as long on one side as her forearm. She handed it to Hagrid with a proud look.

In Hagrid’s huge hands, the package that had been so large for Hermione was dwarfed. He crinkled the paper and winked at her.

“Now, wha’ could this be?” he teased.

The wrappings fell away to reveal a hand embroidered pillow (which very much resembled a toy as he held it). It said: Friends are the Family we Choose.

“Aww, Her-mine-ee…” Hagrid started to tear up, sniffed a bit, and gave her a hug that could have broken a rib had she not been bracing for the inevitable.

“I’ll be thinking about you this summer, Hagrid,” she grinned. Then looking a bit puzzled she asked, “Why is your quilt on the table?”

Hagrid looked embarrassed. “Erm, It’s jus’… a surprise for a friend,” he blushed. “Never you mind. … Tea?”

Much later, Hagrid sent Hermione back toward the castle, her bookbag sagging heavily with his infamous “rock cakes” for the kids’ outbound journey on the Express the next day.

Carefully lifting the quilt from the table, Hagrid again worked on the scrapbook he was making for Harry. The picture Hermione had just given him went close to the one of James and Lily, smiling, holding baby Harry, that Sprout had taken at Harry’s first birthday celebration. Hagrid shook his head and teared up again, “Such hard times. ‘Was important to grab what joy we could…” He flipped the pages, stopping on the picture from McGonagall of James zooming past on his broom during the winning Quidditch match of his final year. “Wish you could see him now, Jamesy-boy,” Hagrid hoarsely said to the figure as it swooped past yet again. “Ye’d be proud.”

Trying for a stiff upper lip he pulled his eyes from the album. They fell on the black iron pot hanging on the hearth, causing a tear to finally break loose, trickling down into his beard. “Norbert…” he whispered.