Hairy Potter-Addams and the Philosopher's Stone: An Altogether Ooky Tale

Through the Trapdoor

Exams, Quidditch, and the first baseball season at Hogwarts competed for Hairy's attention. That was easy to handle. What was less easy to handle was the idea that any moment now, a resurrected Voldemort might kick in on Professor Flitwick's review session or swoop down and knock Hairy off his broom or assault him with a baseball bat--cruel, ironic retribution for the encounter in the clearing--during any of these normal activities. The only thing that gave Hairy peace was the regular pause he took by the door on the third-floor landing, just to listen for Fluffy's snoring. (Well, batting practice helped, too.)

Hairy was forbidden from using his fountain pen in written exams; each student was given a quill bewitched with an Anti-Cheating charm. Practical exams were a little easier, in some respects: Hairy successfully changed a mouse into a coffin-shaped snuffbox and back again for Professor McGonagall. He correctly remembered how to brew a Forgetfulness potion for Snape.

It wasn't easy; the whole time, he had to ignore intermittent, stabbing pangs in his forehead, which had bugged him since his encounter in the forest. He couldn't sleep. Neville and Dean thought it was just exam nerves; Hairy never told them it was because of a nightmare: The green flash, the woman screaming, the cold cackle...and now, a hooded figure spattered with unicorn blood appearing hazily through the verdant flashes.

It irked him a little that Hermione and Ron didn't seem as concerned as himself with the possible return of the most evil wizard of the age. Perhaps it was because neither of them had nightmares or consistent headaches related to the event. They were, without a doubt, scared of the idea, but in the sense that when Wednesday was small, she was afraid there might be a princess or something else offensive under her bed: Voldemort was dead, a far-off story--and besides, why worry when they knew the Stone was safe under Dumbledore's care?

After their last exam, the three of them made their way to the lakeside and flopped under a tree. Hairy took off his shoes and socks and put his feet in the water. Something solid and slippery grazed his foot. "Hey, there," he said to the squid. He pulled out a chunk of sausage he'd taken from lunch that afternoon and dropped it in the water for her. Lee and the Weasley twins were tickling her tentacles a few meters away. Mildred Prescott, the Ravenclaw baseball player, was a little ways away, napping in the shade with her baseball hat pulled over her eyes.

Ron sat beside Harry and put his feet in the water, too. Thanks to his brothers and Hairy, Ron no longer feared the giant squid; he dropped a few chunks of sausage in the water for her, too, and settled back on his elbows. "No more studying, You could look more cheerful, dude," he said--one of his favorite American slang terms.

Harry rubbed his forehead as a dull ache rolled over him. "I wish I knew what this means," he growled. "My scar keeps hurting. It's happened before, but never like this."

Hermione suggested, "Maybe Madam Pomfrey can help."

"I'm not sick. I think it's a warning. It's magical, not physical, if that makes sense. I think something bad is about to happen."

The heat had Ron in a permanently sedated mentality. He couldn't get riled up. "Harry, take it easy. Hermione's right. Dumbledore is here, which means the Stone is safe. We never found any proof that Snape knows how to get past Fluffy. Last time, he almost lost his leg. I don't think he's eager to try it again. Look, Neville will be a Quidditch all-star before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down. Come on. Let's play catch. I brought my glove."

Harry nodded. Hermione was even willing to play; they threw her easy, underhand tosses because she didn't have a glove. Playing catch was easy, mindless. It let Harry's mind wander, but his mind kept being pulled back to that annoying, I-forgot-something-important feeling in his gut. He watched the owls flutter overhead, letters in their beaks, and remembered Hagrid's first letters...Hagrid, who would never compromise Dumbledore's secrets--