The path leading to Hagrid's hut was buzzing with the usual Hogwarts energy—excitement, nervous whispers, and at least one person already regretting their choice of footwear (Ron, who had stepped in something suspiciously squishy).
"I swear, if Hagrid's got another three-headed whatever for us to 'meet,' I'm faking a stomachache," Ron muttered, kicking his shoe against a rock in a futile attempt to clean it.
Hermione sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Oh, honestly, Ron, Hagrid knows what he's doing."
Ron snorted. "Yeah? Tell that to my nerves. Or better yet, to the scars I still have from Norbert."
Harry, walking alongside Jean, Susan, and Neville, chuckled. "Relax, Ron. Hagrid wouldn't put us in danger. At least, not on purpose."
Jean smirked. "And that's what makes it fun, right?" She nudged him playfully, her long red hair catching the sunlight.
Susan, ever the voice of balance, chimed in. "I just hope it's something cute this time. Or at least something that doesn't breathe fire."
"Or have too many teeth," Neville added with a shudder.
Ahead of them, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson strolled with all the confidence of people who had never needed to be humble a day in their lives.
"Oh, look, it's the Golden Boy and his merry band of weirdos," Malfoy drawled, smirking. "Excited to see whatever monstrosity the Fat Oaf's dredged up from the depths of his questionable taste?"
Ron tensed immediately. "Shove off, Malfoy."
Pansy giggled, tossing her hair. "Oh, Ronald, you're adorable when you try to sound tough."
Jean, ever the queen of casual menace, tilted her head and said sweetly, "Parkinson, you know what's even more adorable? You, pretending you have a personality beyond whatever Malfoy tells you to have."
Harry had to bite back a grin as Pansy's face darkened.
Before things could escalate into hexes and bruised egos, Hagrid's unmistakable booming voice rang out. "ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN, YEH LOT! WE GOT A REAL TREAT FER YEH TODAY!"
They all turned to see Hagrid waving enthusiastically from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his massive form nearly blocking the view of whatever creature he'd brought for them.
Susan squinted. "So, on a scale of 'harmless fluffball' to 'probably illegal,' where do we think today's lesson falls?"
"Given that it's Hagrid?" Hermione sighed. "I'd say somewhere between 'mildly life-threatening' and 'we'll need a hospital wing visit by lunch.'"
The Monster Book of…Chaos
"Alright, first thing's first," Hagrid said, his enormous hands clapping together like thunder. "Open yer books ter page twenty-four!"
A collective groan swept through the class as they all hesitated, staring down at their Monster Books of Monsters.
Draco held his up, the book still tightly bound with a belt. "And how exactly are we supposed to do that without losing a hand?" he drawled, smirking.
Hagrid's ears turned pink. "Er, well, yeh just gotta—"
"I got this," Harry said, stepping forward before Hagrid got too flustered.
He reached down and gently stroked the spine of his book. Instantly, it shuddered, then settled, flipping open with all the docility of a well-trained pet.
The class collectively gaped.
Jean whistled. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone has the magic touch."
Ron, still eying his book like it might bite his face off (which, to be fair, was a real possibility), tried Harry's technique. To his relief, the book shuddered but opened without trying to eat him.
"Blimey," Ron muttered. "I thought I was gonna have to fight it for dominance."
Hannah, cautiously stroking her book's spine, looked up with wide eyes. "I don't know whether this is adorable or terrifying."
Neville, meanwhile, hesitated. His book, still untamed, rattled ominously in his hands.
Susan nudged him. "Go on, Nev. Show it who's boss."
Neville gulped, reached out… and promptly got his finger nipped.
He yelped, shaking his hand. "Oh, come on!"
Jean, suppressing a grin, moved beside him. "Here, let me." She reached out, stroking the book's spine with practiced ease. It immediately calmed, opening like a well-trained pet.
Neville stared. "I swear, if magic just likes you better than me, I'm giving up."
Jean grinned. "I have that effect on things."
Hagrid, clearly relieved that at least half the class hadn't lost fingers, clapped his hands together. "RIGHT! Now that we've got that sorted, let's move on ter somethin' real excitin'."
—
Meanwhile, Hagrid led the group toward a large paddock, and Harry, trying his hardest to pay attention, couldn't help but be distracted by the sheer beauty of the creatures before him. A herd of Hippogriffs—glistening feathers, eagle-like heads, and horse-like bodies—were grazing peacefully. The sight was impressive enough to make even Draco Malfoy's usual sneer falter, though he quickly recovered, probably trying to come up with some way to insult the majestic creatures.
Hagrid, of course, was beaming like a giant toddler with a new toy. "Look at 'em, eh? Beautiful creatures. Proud as a wizard who just aced his OWLs. Now, listen closely—Hippogriffs are all about respect. You approach 'em like you're trying to make a deal with a dragon. Slowly, respectfully, and most importantly—don't act like a dunderhead."
The class, which had previously been filled with excited whispers and laughter, fell silent as they all nodded, trying to absorb the information. Harry felt a slight tug at his sleeve and turned to find Jean, her face lit with curiosity, eyes wide as she took in the Hippogriffs.
"So, what do you think? We could call one of them 'Fluffy'… right?" Jean said, biting her lip and clearly picturing a Hippogriff named after the three-headed dog from The Philosopher's Stone.
Harry, always a fan of Jean's offbeat suggestions, grinned. "Fluffy sounds a little too, uh, cozy for a creature that could probably kick us into the next century. What about 'Stormbreaker'?"
Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed with the name. "Not bad. But I was thinking something more mystical… Like 'Elderwind'?"
"Elderwind?" Ron interrupted, shaking his head. "You two are taking this naming thing too seriously. How about 'Flint'—like a firestarter?"
"I think we can do better," Hermione piped up, glancing between Harry and Jean. "What about something that sounds like it could actually live in the Forbidden Forest, like... 'Shadowfeather'? Or 'Nightwind'?"
"Honestly, anything sounds better than 'Fluffy,'" Neville muttered from beside them. He had a firm grip on his book and looked ready to dive into the lesson, but his usual shyness was still apparent as he glanced nervously at the Hippogriffs.
Hagrid, overhearing their brainstorming session, chuckled deeply, shaking his shaggy head. "Yeh lot are full of good ideas, but remember—it's all about respect when it comes to Hippogriffs. Now, who's brave enough to try their hand at approachin' one?"
Ron paled slightly, though he tried to cover it with a shrug. "Brave, sure. But not that brave."
Harry looked over at Jean, who was clearly itching to volunteer. It wasn't so much the Hippogriffs that made her hesitant—it was the idea of doing something wrong. She had that fierce determination to succeed in everything she tried, and Harry loved how it fueled her confidence.
"Don't worry," Harry whispered with a smirk. "I've got this."
Before anyone could protest, Harry raised his hand. "I'll do it, Hagrid."
Hagrid's face lit up with pride, his eyes twinkling as he slapped Harry on the back so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. "That's the spirit! Go on, then, Harry. Show 'em how it's done!"
With all eyes on him, Harry stepped forward, the Hippogriff's sharp eyes locking onto him. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck as he approached Buckbeak—the largest of the group. Buckbeak's feathers were sleek and shimmering under the sunlight, and its eagle eyes scanned Harry with the cold precision of a bird of prey.
Remembering Hagrid's instructions, Harry slowly bent his knee, bowing to the majestic creature. For a heart-stopping moment, Buckbeak didn't move. Then, with surprising gentleness, it dipped its head in acknowledgment.
"I'll be honest," Harry muttered under his breath to no one in particular. "That was a lot more terrifying than I thought it'd be."
"Buckbeak's a creature of honor," Hermione said, her voice calm. "Just like the legend. If you show respect, it'll respond the same way."
Encouraged by the quiet approval from his friends, Harry took a deep breath and carefully approached, stretching out his hand to stroke the Hippogriff's feathery mane. To his relief, Buckbeak let out a low, rumbling noise—almost like a purr—before nudging his hand gently with its beak.
"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid boomed, causing several nearby students to flinch. "You've got a way with creatures, just like yer mum!"
Harry grinned widely at the praise. It was exactly what he needed to hear. Even better, he could feel the sense of accomplishment rising within him. He glanced over at Jean, who flashed him an encouraging smile, her eyes sparkling like they always did when she was impressed.
Then, before Harry knew what was happening, Hagrid grabbed him by the shoulders and hoisted him up onto Buckbeak's back, effortlessly lifting him like he was a ragdoll. "Here yeh go, Harry! Buckbeak's ready for a little flight!"
"I—I didn't sign up for this part!" Harry gasped, clutching onto Buckbeak's mane as it shuffled into position. "What if I fall?"
"Nah, don't worry," Hagrid said, practically beaming with pride. "Just hold on tight. Buckbeak's got a good sense o' balance. Ain't no fallin'."
As Buckbeak took a few steps back, preparing for a running start, Harry could feel his stomach twist with both excitement and anxiety. Before he could react, Buckbeak launched into the air, wings flapping hard enough to send a gust of wind through Harry's hair.
The ground below disappeared as they soared upward, the castle shrinking beneath them like a child's toy. Harry's heart raced, his breath catching in his throat, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. The freedom of flying—no broomstick, no weight—was exhilarating.
"Bloody hell," Harry yelled over the wind, "this is amazing!"
His classmates below stared up in wide-eyed awe, some of them even jumping in excitement. Jean, of course, was grinning from ear to ear, giving him a thumbs-up.
Buckbeak glided smoothly, its wings catching the wind like it had been flying for centuries. As Harry clung to the creature, he thought, This is what freedom feels like. No worries, no weight, just the wind and the sky.
They soared higher and higher, until Hogwarts seemed like a distant memory. Harry could barely hear Hagrid's voice shouting encouragement from the ground below. All he could focus on was the feeling of the wind rushing past his face and the wild sense of exhilaration that left him feeling invincible.
After what felt like an eternity of flight, Buckbeak began its descent, gracefully gliding back toward the paddock. As the ground neared, Harry reluctantly loosened his grip, but he couldn't stop grinning.
—
The flight was everything Harry had hoped for—and more. Buckbeak landed with a grace that defied the creature's massive wingspan, touching down so softly that it felt like they were sinking into a cloud. Harry's legs wobbled like he'd just had a double shot of Firewhisky—although he hadn't, of course, because Hagrid would definitely not approve. He barely managed to stick the landing, but hey, no one saw that part. Buckbeak, on the other hand, strutted around like the majestic creature he was, giving Harry a look that said, I know I'm awesome, but I'll let you enjoy this moment of glory.
"Thanks, Buckbeak," Harry said, his voice low and full of admiration, patting the Hippogriff's sleek feathers. He could feel that familiar buzz, the one that came whenever he made a connection with a magical creature—like a jolt of electricity had run through him, except in a good way, like he'd had one too many Pumpkin Pasties... or like his body had decided it wanted to absorb Buckbeak's cool flying powers. Which, now that he thought about it, probably was what was happening. Harry had learned to recognize the signs: the little spark of energy that ran up his arm, the sense that his body was suddenly more attuned to the creature's grace and strength.
"I should get used to this," Harry muttered, rubbing his hands together. He could feel it, that slight shift in his muscles, the power—it was weirdly exhilarating, and yet, so natural now. Like he was becoming one with the creature, absorbing its essence. But it was also Buckbeak's essence, so, you know, no big deal. Just another day in the life of the magical mutant with a bad case of not-being-able-to-shut-up.
Harry looked up to see his friends watching him, their eyes wide like they had just witnessed something epic—which, honestly, they had. Jean's expression was particularly unreadable, a mix of awe and curiosity. And maybe a bit of... something else?
"Nice one, Harry!" Ron shouted, clapping Harry on the back a little too hard, causing him to stumble. "That was insane! You just went flying on a Hippogriff, mate. I'm not even sure how that works, but it's brilliant."
"Yeah, you're gonna have to write that down in your 'coolest thing ever' list," Hermione added, her tone more cautious but still tinged with admiration. She was biting her lip, looking as if she was running the numbers in her head, calculating the risks. Hermione Granger, always prepared for every possible outcome. "But seriously, Harry, be careful. Hippogriffs are temperamental. I mean, they've been known to—"
"Yeah, yeah," Harry interrupted, waving her off with a grin. "But this one likes me." He patted Buckbeak's feathers again for emphasis.
Hagrid, who had been standing to the side with an enormous grin plastered across his face, chuckled, clearly pleased with the result. "Yeh did well, Harry! Not many get that kind o' response on their first go. Yer mum would've been proud." He wiped a suspicious tear from his eye, then looked at the others with a wink. "Now, who's up for tryin' it next?"
Jean stepped forward, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she gazed at Harry. "You were really brave," she said, and there was something in her voice—genuine, sincere—and a little warm, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. It made Harry's chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain.
"Uh—thanks," Harry said, trying to sound casual, but the words tumbled out too quickly, his face lighting up as if he'd just seen a firework show in his honor. "It was nothing, really. Just... you know, flying on a giant bird."
"Nothing?!" Ron practically exploded, waving his hands like Harry had just downplayed something equivalent to winning the Triwizard Tournament. "That was everything, mate! You're officially the coolest person I know." He glanced around, as if checking for backup. "No offence, but this is a serious upgrade from last year when you just survived the basilisk."
"I don't know, Ron," Hermione said thoughtfully, giving Harry an approving look. "That basilisk was pretty impressive."
"Yeah, but this?" Ron shot a thumbs-up at Harry, who was still trying to suppress a laugh. "You were riding a Hippogriff. That's gotta be worth more points than 'barely surviving a monster.'"
Jean smiled at Harry again, this time a little more knowingly, her eyes flicking toward Ron, then back to him. Harry swore he could feel the air between them crackling. He cleared his throat and quickly turned to face Hagrid, just to focus on something else.
Hagrid, clearly not missing the moment between Harry and Jean, grinned. "All right, then, let's move on! I reckon we've all had enough of Buckbeak for today—except for yeh, Harry." He gave Harry an affectionate slap on the back, nearly sending him flying. "You've got the touch, lad."
Harry managed a sheepish grin, still feeling like the world was spinning from the adrenaline. But then again, maybe it wasn't just the adrenaline. Maybe it was something else entirely.
Jean gave him one last look, her eyes still warm, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little like he was floating. It was like being on a broomstick again—flying high above everything, with the world spread out below him, full of possibilities and new beginnings.
—
The class was buzzing with excitement like a bunch of Beaters who'd just hit the Bludger out of the park. After seeing Harry's success, it was like a group confidence boost had been passed around the paddock, except it wasn't a potion—just a good dose of "maybe I won't fall off my Hippogriff today." Students were getting all brave, bowing to their respective creatures, waiting for the magical nod of approval.
Enter Draco Malfoy, stage right. If you ever wanted to see someone try and fail to pull off "cool" without even a hint of irony, Draco was your guy. He strutted over with that swagger of his, the one that only comes from being raised by a man who's spent more time in the mirror than at family dinners.
With a smirk that could sour milk, Draco tossed a glance at Buckbeak, the magnificent Hippogriff, and spat out, "You're not so special, are you? Just a stupid animal."
Oh, Draco. Bless his heart. He clearly hadn't learned the most important lesson about magical creatures: they always know when you're trying to be a jerk. It was like the Hippogriff's ears perked up to the sound of an insult, and before anyone could even process what was happening, Draco was in deep.
The Hippogriff flared its wings with a dramatic whoosh, eyes narrowing in that way only mythical creatures can. It was like something out of a nightmare, but in reverse—Draco was the one about to get roasted.
"You've got to be kidding me," Harry muttered, already running toward the scene, his heart doing a weird flip-flop of panic. He didn't even think about it—he just moved. "Malfoy, bow! NOW!"
Draco, of course, was frozen in place, his brain clearly short-circuiting like a first-year who had no idea how to handle a first day of classes. Buckbeak took one slow step forward, its beak snapping ominously, looking like it was going to turn Malfoy into an accidental kebab.
From where he was standing, Harry could feel it—a surge of urgency, like his mutant senses were telling him this could go from bad to worse in less time than it takes for Hermione to lecture you about breaking a rule.
Jean, standing next to Harry, knew exactly what she had to do. It wasn't every day that you saw Draco Malfoy about to meet a creature that didn't give a flying Hippogriff's feather about his family name. But Jean? Jean had a thing for fixing messes. Whether it was by telekinetically moving furniture out of the way or shifting people into the right position, she was a pro.
With one subtle push of her telekinesis, Draco was shoved backward. It wasn't violent, more like a gentle reminder that personal space existed—especially around angry Hippogriffs.
"Malfoy, you're going to want to listen to Harry here," Jean called, her voice calm but firm. The gentle breeze around her barely ruffled her hair, but in her eyes, there was something unspoken. Power. Control. The kind that said she could handle a situation like this without breaking a sweat.
But back to the chaos. Harry was now in between Draco and Buckbeak, trying to save Draco without getting bucked off by an angry, beak-snapping creature.
"Easy, Buckbeak," Harry said, his voice strangely steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. The Hippogriff was still eyeing Draco with the kind of judgment you'd expect from a parent watching their kid make a questionable life choice. "He didn't mean it. Please, calm down."
The air was thick, and for a split second, it felt like everyone was holding their breath. Was this it? Was Draco Malfoy about to get up close and personal with a Hippogriff's beak? It was a very real possibility.
Then, just when it felt like things were going to take a turn for the worse, Jean did that thing she did. The thing that made her seem like she was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. She sent calming thoughts to Buckbeak, letting her telepathic connection with the creature flow like a gentle river, whispering, "Peace, Buckbeak. We mean no harm."
For a moment, the Hippogriff's wings drooped. Its eyes softened. It took a step back, then another, still watching Draco like it was waiting for him to say something else stupid.
The tension in the air snapped, just like that. Draco was alive, but barely.
Hagrid, who had been watching with a look of absolute horror on his face, lumbered over to Draco, his voice booming with the kind of authority that could make a room full of dragons think twice. "Right, that's enough excitement for today," Hagrid grumbled, pulling Malfoy away from Buckbeak like a father dragging his kid away from a tantrum.
Draco didn't even look at anyone—he just turned his back to the paddock and stomped off, looking like someone had just stolen his lunch and his self-esteem in one go.
The rest of the class exhaled in unison, as though they'd all been holding their breath. Whispers began to ripple through the group. Some of the students were still wide-eyed, marveling at how Harry and Jean had handled the situation with the grace of two wizards who had saved the day.
"Blimey, that was close," Ron muttered, his face pale from the adrenaline rush. "Think Malfoy'll learn his lesson?"
Hermione, who had been watching the whole thing with a mixture of concern and admiration, nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know if Malfoy has lessons to learn, Ron, but Harry and Jean definitely saved the day."
Harry, still feeling the adrenaline, turned to Jean, his face heating up like a blasted Bunsen burner. She had a quiet smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and control that only Jean could pull off.
"Thanks," Harry said, his voice a little shaky, though he was still trying to look cool. "That was... really impressive."
Jean, her cheeks flushed a little but her smile wide and genuine, shrugged casually. "I just didn't want to see him get eaten. You know, no biggie."
They both shared a look—an awkward, "we totally just saved a jerk from a Hippogriff" look—before turning back to their friends.
Ron, being Ron, grinned like a lunatic. "I knew you two had it in you! Heroes, the both of you! Seriously, next time Malfoy tries something, we'll get a giant squid to deal with him."
The class broke into laughter, the tension from before finally dissipating. But as Harry glanced over at Jean, his heart did that thing again. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn't just the adrenaline talking.
—
Draco Malfoy wasn't exactly known for his humility. But that day, as he trailed behind Harry and the others on their way back to the castle, it was like someone had switched his usual swagger with a tin can full of reluctance. His usual sneer was replaced with something more like a grimace, the kind of expression you get when you're too proud to admit you're wrong, but you're stuck doing it anyway.
"Potter," Draco began, voice unusually tight. "I... I owe you a Life Debt now, don't I?"
This took Harry by surprise. He hadn't exactly been expecting Draco to come up to him with a full-on confession. Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione, who both looked equally baffled. Ron's eyebrows were practically in his hairline, and Hermione—well, Hermione was giving Draco the kind of skeptical stare that only she could pull off.
Ron leaned in, his voice low like he was passing on top-secret info. "Life Debt, mate. Big deal. Basically, he owes you his life."
Harry blinked. "Wait, what? Life Debt? What does that even mean?" Because, let's face it, Harry's knowledge of wizarding customs was still roughly the size of a sneeze, and "Life Debt" sounded like something straight out of a history book he'd never read.
Hermione, always the know-it-all (but in the best way), leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. "It's magical, Harry. If someone saves your life, you owe them a magical debt. It's binding." She sounded like she had just explained how to cast a Levitation Charm—like she wasn't explaining life-or-death stuff to her best friend.
Draco seemed to be struggling with the concept too, his face scrunching up like someone had just handed him a steaming plate of pumpkin pasties. "I can't just owe you forever," he muttered, looking between Harry and the others, clearly trying to wrangle his pride into something more manageable. "What do you want, Potter? I'll do it, but it has to be... something fair, right?"
Before Harry could respond (because, honestly, what do you ask for in a situation like this? A broomstick? A lifetime supply of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?), Hermione piped up again, her voice all calm logic. "Draco, it's not something you can just repay. It's... well, it's a debt that doesn't work like that."
Draco didn't like the sound of that. His eyebrows shot up, and he looked like he was about to argue. But then, like someone had just slapped him with a boggart, he sighed deeply and practically mumbled, "Fine. What do you want from me, Potter?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, the kind of gesture he usually reserved for awkward situations or when he had to figure out how to stop an out-of-control Firebolt from spiraling into the Forbidden Forest. This felt like both. "Actually, there is something," he said, trying to sound casual but probably failing.
Draco's eyes narrowed, and he looked like he might make a sarcastic comment about Harry's "epic life wisdom," but instead, he just crossed his arms, waiting for the bombshell. "What is it?" he asked, all business now.
"I want you to free Dobby," Harry said, as if it were the most normal request in the world.
There was a long pause.
"Who?" Draco asked, blinking like Harry had just asked him to do a backflip on a broomstick.
"Dobby," Ron said, his voice dripping with exasperation, as though the whole thing were some big secret. "Your family's house-elf, mate. You know, the one who looks like a cross between a sock and an unhappy garden gnome?"
Draco's mouth worked like he was trying to swallow a particularly unpleasant pumpkin juice. "What do you mean, 'free' him?" he asked, his voice going a little higher. "He's a house-elf! What do you even... how do you know about him?"
Ron couldn't help himself. "Oh, you know, Harry's not just some random kid who falls off broomsticks and gets chased by angry trolls. He keeps an eye on things, mate."
Draco turned a shade of red so deep that it almost looked like he was trying to start a new trend in fashion. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Then, with an almost comical roll of his eyes, he said, "Fine. Whatever."
And just like that, Draco Malfoy—heir to the Malfoy fortune, Hogwarts' resident troublemaker—walked over to a nearby tree, cleared his throat, and bellowed, "Dobby!" like he was calling for a dog to fetch his broom.
The house-elf popped into existence with a crack that nearly gave Harry a heart attack, standing there in all his big-eyed, bat-eared glory. Dobby's enormous eyes were like two full moons, and his face had that eternally perplexed expression of someone who had accidentally spilled something in the middle of a tea party.
"Master Draco called Dobby, sir?" Dobby squeaked, looking up at Draco like he was waiting for a new set of orders.
"Yeah, yeah," Draco muttered, practically slamming his tie into Dobby's hands. "You're free, elf. Just—don't make a big deal out of it."
Dobby's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and his ears wobbled with joy. "Master Draco is... freeing Dobby?!" he squeaked, holding the tie to his chest like it was a billion-dollar treasure. His voice went up a few octaves, as if he were about to faint from happiness. "Dobby is free! Free!"
Harry didn't know who looked more surprised—Dobby, who was doing a little victory dance in the middle of the path, or Draco, who was standing there looking like he just made the biggest mistake of his life.
With that, Draco gave Harry a sideways glance, looking somewhat less smug than usual. "There," he muttered, scowling. "Life Debt repaid."
Harry smiled, kind of surprised that Draco had actually done it. "Thanks, I guess."
And with that, Draco turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Jean standing there, wondering if they had just witnessed the world's most awkward moment of redemption.
Jean, who had been quietly observing the whole exchange, leaned toward Harry and gave him a wink. "You sure know how to make things interesting," she said, her voice warm with that laugh of hers that made Harry's stomach do a little flip. It was one of those moments where he didn't quite know how to respond, but he smiled anyway, the way you do when someone says something that makes you feel like you're secretly the hero of your own comic book.
As if to punctuate the moment, Hermione shook her head with a smile. "That was... unexpected," she said. "But Dobby deserves his freedom. You did the right thing, Harry."
"Yeah," Ron added, "Dobby's free now, mate. You did good."
Jean smiled at Harry, her eyes glowing. "You've got a good heart, Harry. I'm sure Dobby will be just fine."
And as they walked back to the castle, with Draco's retreating back and Dobby's joyful little squeals echoing behind them, Harry couldn't help but think—maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to figure this whole "doing the right thing" thing out.
—
Just as things were about to go back to normal (which, let's face it, was never really a thing at Hogwarts), Dobby suddenly stepped forward, his eyes practically gleaming with admiration. I mean, if there was a "Most Devoted Elf" award, Dobby would have it on display in his little corner, probably next to a framed picture of me looking like I'd just eaten a canary.
"Great Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked, his voice bubbling with sincerity. "Dobby is forever grateful to you. Dobby... Dobby would like to be your house-elf, if Harry Potter would have him."
This was a bit of a shock. I mean, come on—did the elf just ask to be my house-elf? I felt my brain do a quick flip-flop, because I was still trying to process everything else, like Draco Malfoy being... well, human for once.
"Dobby," I started, trying to keep my voice steady, "you don't have to do that. You're free now. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. You deserve it."
But Dobby wasn't hearing it. He was nodding so hard I was afraid his ears might fly off. "Yes, sir! Dobby knows! But Dobby wants to help Harry Potter! Dobby wants to serve the greatest wizard he knows!" And then he paused, looking at me like I was the last piece of chocolate in a box. "If Harry Potter will allow it, Dobby would be honored to be his house-elf."
I glanced around at my crew—Ron, Hermione, Jean, and even Neville, who'd been oddly quiet up until this point. Ron looked about as enthusiastic as a dog in a bath, but Jean—Jean—she flashed me a look that was equal parts impressed and... kind of proud?
Alright, I could do this. No one was asking for a grand speech.
"Alright, Dobby," I said, trying not to sound too serious about it, "if that's really what you want, then sure, I'll take you on. But there's one condition."
Dobby's ears twitched and his beady eyes went wide. "Anything, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby will do anything!" He was practically vibrating with excitement.
I gave him a pointed look. "You've got to promise me one thing. You're free now. That means you can leave anytime you want. No one—no one—should have to serve anyone unless they want to."
Dobby's eyes filled with those big, wet elf tears again. And I swear, I thought I saw a small cloud of magic form around him, like he was about to explode from the emotion. "Dobby promises, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is free, and Dobby will serve Harry Potter because he chooses to!" he said, clutching the tie like it was the last biscuit on a tea tray.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I'd made my decision, but... this felt different. "Alright, Dobby. Welcome aboard."
Now, if you've never had a house-elf pledge their loyalty to you in the most heartwarming (and slightly terrifying) way possible, you haven't really lived. Dobby's eyes were practically sparkling. "Thank you, Harry Potter, sir! To officially become Harry Potter's house-elf, we must hold hands and make a magically binding pact."
I looked down at Dobby's hand, which looked like it could be crushed by a giant's sneeze. But, hey, it was a magic thing, so I gave it a shot. I reached out and clasped his tiny, rough hand in mine.
The moment our hands touched, I felt this strange, almost shocking sensation—like a wave of warmth mixed with... magic, if that makes sense. It was like electricity running up my arm, but in a good way. For a moment, I thought I might actually turn into a house-elf, which—no offense to Dobby—was not a look I was going for.
The golden light surrounding us flickered, flared, and then disappeared, leaving me a bit disoriented but feeling... strangely empowered. Like I'd just unlocked a bonus power-up or something.
Dobby's eyes were now shining with an impossible level of joy. "It is done, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is now your house-elf!"
"Great," I muttered, giving his hand a final squeeze before letting go. "Thanks, Dobby. Really."
At this point, I had no idea what I'd just signed myself up for, but it was too late now.
Hermione, who'd been watching the whole thing like she was about to start taking notes, raised an eyebrow. "So... that was official, right? I mean, I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this."
"I don't know," I replied, rubbing my temples. "I think I just adopted an elf. Or maybe he adopted me. Either way, I guess we're in this together now."
Ron, who had been pacing back and forth as though trying to figure out if he could break into a dance routine to avoid thinking about it, suddenly stopped and nodded. "Well, mate, it's definitely something. But you've done a good thing. Dobby's been through enough."
Jean gave me one of those smiles that made my heart do a little flip-flop again, but she kept it casual—too casual. "I guess you've got a new partner in crime now, huh?"
I gave a weak shrug, still unsure if this was my idea of a good plan. "I guess so. But at least now, if anyone messes with me, they've got an angry house-elf on their tail."
Dobby, hearing this, looked like he'd just been given a new quest from Merlin himself. "Dobby will protect Harry Potter! Dobby will guard him with all his might!" he said with so much fervor I half expected him to start donning armor.
"I'm sure you will," I said, suddenly wishing for some popcorn to watch Dobby go full security mode on anyone who looked at me funny.
Hermione glanced at me thoughtfully. "Harry, you've done a really good thing here. I think Dobby deserves this."
I nodded, still processing everything. "Yeah, but I think I might be getting the short end of this deal."
Neville, who'd been quietly watching this whole scene unfold, piped up from the back. "I think it's... kind of nice, Harry. You know, giving Dobby freedom and all that. You did the right thing."
"Thanks, Neville," I said, smiling at him. "I hope I did. But now I've got a house-elf army backing me up, so the next time someone calls a Muggleborn a Mudblood, I might just have an army of magical fury to unleash."
As we made our way back to the castle, I couldn't help but feel a little stronger, a little more sure of myself. With Dobby now on my side, I felt like I could handle whatever Hogwarts threw at me next. And with Jean's warm gaze lingering on me, I had a feeling the adventure was just getting started.
---
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