Swagrid had a habit of getting drunk every night, and he hadn't broken this tradition for months. An angry little man making false threats wasn't going to stop him.
As he strode down the muddy street, he could feel the eyes of the other villagers boring into the back of his skull. But he was used to hostility. His reputation wasn't exactly clean.
When he arrived at the pub - more of a hut - he strode in. The bartender instantly gave him a cup of sake, what he had every night, and Swagrid handed over a few coins.
He didn't much like the taste of sake, but the high alcohol percentage drew him in still. He'd even started to enjoy the burning aftertaste. It reminded him that he wasn't on vacation. He had to move sometime.
A small group of people - men, women, children - had gathered outside the hut. They waited patiently.
Swagrid downed a third shot of sake before deciding he'd prefer to use a pint glass. He was naturally alcohol resistant, being a half giant, but after his third pint of sake, his motor skills weren't up to much. "'ave this," slobbered Swagrid, dropping the equivalent of three months wages onto the floor. As Swagrid got up to leave, the barman grimaced.
He'd seen burnings before, and a belly full of sake would not help.
As Swagrid tumbled onto the floor outside the makeshift pub, the crowd rushed him, and screamed to tie him up. After a few seconds though, they realised there was no need. He was unconscious.
In the distance, Hagrid could see a small fire. He knew that this village was notorious for burnings, and also that his brother had probably outstayed his welcome. So, with dual Claymores at his sides, and a Scorpion across his back, he sprinted through the trees.
But he left Grawp behind
YOU ARE READING
The Tale of Swagrid
FanfictionHagrid has always been known as the cheerful groundsman of the school of Hogwarts. But his past was less pleasant than many would guess, full of mystery, woe, and attempted fratricide. Here lies the long forgotten tale of Swagrid.
