Ancient Echoes - Harry Potter Male Reader Insert

Chapter 15 - Inevitable Confrontation

When he reached Hagrid's hut, Y/n paused for a moment, taking in the familiar sight of the sturdy wooden structure nestled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air was crisp, and the faint smell of damp earth and wildflowers filled his nostrils.

He could hear the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. It was a clear difference to the tension that had filled the Quidditch pitch moments earlier.

With a deep breath, he approached the door and pushed it open, the warmth and light from inside spilling out into the twilight.

Inside, he found Harry, Hermione, and a very ill-looking Ron already there. Hagrid was bustling about, preparing a remedy for Ron's slug problem.

The large table in the center of the room was cluttered with various jars of herbs and potions, and the fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, was lying in his usual spot by the fire, thumping his tail lazily in greeting as Y/n entered.

As Y/n stepped inside, the trio immediately noticed his arrival. The sight of his friends in distress refocused his mind.

Hermione was pacing anxiously, her brow furrowed in worry, while Harry hovered close to Ron, who was seated and looking pale, occasionally spitting out a slug into a bucket Hagrid had provided.

"Y/n, what happened back there?" Harry asked, concern evident in his eyes.

"Just gave Malfoy a little reminder that he can't go around saying things like that," Y/n replied, his voice still tinged with the anger from earlier. "How's Ron?"

Y/n watched as Ron spat out another slug, his face pale but determined. He admired Ron's bravery, even if the spell had backfired. It was the thought that counted.

"Nothing to do but wait till it stops, I'm afraid. Just give er some time." Hagrid said gruffly, handing Ron a bucket. "Who was Ron trying to curse, anyway?" he questioned.

Hermione, still upset, got up and folded her arms as she walked away from her friends.

"Hagrid," she said, with an edge to her voice, "he called me a Mudblood."

Hagrid gasped in shock. "He did not!"

"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled.

Hermione spun around to face him, her expression troubled. "It means 'dirty blood'. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is muggle-born, someone with non-magic parents, someone like me," she explained, her voice tinged with hurt. "It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation." She sat down on the edge of the bench, looking downcast.

Hagrid nodded sympathetically. "See, the thing is, Harry, there's some wizards, like the Malfoy family, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure blood."

Harry's face twisted with disgust. "That's horrible."

Ron coughed up another slug into the bucket Hagrid had provided, prompting Hermione to glance at him with concern.

"It's disgusting," Ron added, wiping his mouth.

Hagrid shook his head. "And it's codswallop to boot. Dirty blood... Why, there isn't a wizard alive today that's not half-blood or less. More to the point, they've yet to think of a spell that our Hermione can't do." He beckoned Hermione over with a comforting gesture. "Come here, don't you think on it, Hermione. Don't you think on it for one minute. Hey?" Despite the tears in her eyes, Hermione managed a small smile as she walked over to Hagrid.

"Thanks for sticking up for us, Y/n," Hermione said softly, her eyes meeting his. "But you know this might get you into trouble."

Y/n shrugged indifferently. "Let them try. Some things are worth fighting for."