Chapter Text
A groundskeeper, a defence teacher and a phantom Dark Lord walked into a bar.
The Hog’s Head Inn to be precise.
That’s how the story started; like the opening to a joke -- and not a particularly witty one either.
It was a lively evening with drinks and gambling which ended in disaster, though the punchline was that non present within the dingy pub ever realized. Not a single person understood that the course of history changed path that eve, (and not for the better) when crucial information was shared with the wrong ears, and a dragon egg awarded to the wrong hands.
Tipsy and flushed with his success, Rubeus Hagrid stumbled home with a dragon egg in his pocket, while the defence teacher and his master began plotting the next step of their dark plans.
The very next day three students, Hariel Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley found the groundskeeper snooping around the library -- well outside his natural habitat – picking out an unusual selection of reading materials concerning dragons.
Alarm bells ringing, this promised no good for any of them, because;
“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him.” said Hariel.
“But it’s against our laws,” Said Hermione. “Dragon-breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to stop muggles noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the backyard,” Ron said. “– anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous.”
Bright eyed and too curious for their own good, the three Gryffindors set out to investigate this latest oddity in a long series of abnormal happenings, though a single visit to the groundskeeper’s home clarified the troubling situation at once.
“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” Ron asked, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the dragon egg. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.”
“Won it,” Hagrid admitted. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”
“But what are you going to do when it hatches?” said Hermione.
“Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library – Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. An’ see here – how ter recognize diff’rent eggs – I think what I got there’s a Hungarian Horntail. A bit hard ter tell, o’ course, since it might be a cross breed, but close enough.”
Humming merrily Hagrid stoked the fire, looking very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn’t.
“Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,”
The following events would remain an unexplained mystery - or a horrible tragedy – at any rate it'd be heavily debated and whichever version of events were deemed accurate depended on who were conversing. In the end, there was only a few things the inhabitants of Hogwarts figured out for certain.
On a Thursday afternoon, Hariel Potter had gone alone to visit Hagrid after supper, never to be seen again.
Half an hour before curfew there was a sharp screeching sound heard by everyone within the castle. In the library, Hermione Granger startled so badly she accidentally tipped her inkwell over her finished Herbology assignment. Ron’s Gobstone game against Seamus was abandoned when the boys rushed over to the window. It was so loud even the barman at the Hog’s Head Inn heard it.
Squinting through a window from Gryffindor tower, Ron’s eyes found Hagrid’s hut through the darkness. Before he could make sense of what he was seeing or even utter a startled surprise, there was a bright light, and Hagrid’s Hut was ripped away.
In confused panic, half the castle ended up pouring out onto the lawn: Teachers, students, ghosts, and even a few House Elves were spotted on the scene, staring aghast at the fresh indent hollowed into the ground. Because all that'd been left was a deep pit where Hagrid’s hut used to stand. The entire house, foundations and even the earth underneath the humble home scooped away. Only half the pumpkin patch left behind.
One could ask what was behind the disaster, and many would. The topic would be brought up in heated debates between Ministry officials in the heart of the Ministry, as well as during innocent chats between House Elves preparing breakfast.
What happened? (Hard to say, since the evidences disappeared into thin air.)
Was it accidental or intentional? (Maybe a bit of both? Most wouldn’t put it past Hagrid -- except for those who actually knew him.)
How did they do it? Was it a curse? (Most likely.)
Who was the true target? The girl or the groundskeeper?
(One side will say: they were after The-Girl-Who-Lived! She had so many enemies, just biding their time and waiting for the opportune moment. But then again, others will argue and say: Nonsense. It was Rubeus Hagrid they wanted rid of – don’t you know he was a half-giant? It was his house that was targeted.)
Yet none are able to bring forth a satisfying conclusion, because-
Who was even behind it?
Who’s at fault?
It’s something that would be heavily debated for decades to come, because this tragedy shouldn’t have happened.
No. If things had gone as expected, the egg would have hatched a few days later on Hagrid's kitchen table. It’d create a ruckus even Hagrid couldn't control, and eventually he’d be convinced to send the dragon to a sanctuary.
That’s how it should've gone down,
- but this is not that story.
Late in the year, during what was later called the ‘Night of the Falling Lights’ -- so named for the spectacular meteor shower that flashed across the sky -- something peculiar happened in Northern Essos. Something magical.
While admiring the shower of shooting stars during the hour of the ghost, the people living within a humble fishing town was brought to awe by a fierce lightning strike hitting the nearby woods. The light had been so vivid that for a split second, night had turned to day.
“Lightning? But how could it have been lightning? There’s not a cloud in the sky!” A fisherman and father of three said bewildered.
“It was a star, father!” His son cried, “A fallen star!”
So the next day, rested and with better light, a group of men gathered their hunting hounds and weapons to go investigate.
Despite the many suggestions about what they might find, all their guesses proved inaccurate. Instead, what they found was a massive chunk of charred earth that’d inexplicably landed in the middle of the forest, toppling several trees to make space, and right on top of the newly formed hill of soil was a sagging wooden hut. The most astonishing detail was the smoke wafting out of the pipe, which could only mean someone lived here.
The barking of the dogs and the talk amongst the men stirred the residents inside. From within they heard heavy footsteps, the door opened, and they were all rendered speechless when a giant of a man appeared on the broken steps.
His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. Being the tallest man any of them had ever seen, weary precaution kept all eyes strained on him. So much so that half the crowd were startled when a young female voice spoke up.
It was only the most astute who’d noticed that the little girl had actually been standing next to him the entire time.
“Hagrid? What’s going on? Is this more wizarding stuff I just don’t know of yet?” She asked the groundskeeper, though his stricken expression didn’t seem promising.
After the hell of the night before and waking up feeling like she’d flown her Nimbus 2000 head first into the Hogwarts Express, Hariel hoped this could somehow be resolved peacefully. Forcing her mouth to smile Hariel waved awkwardly to the crowd. “Hi… er’, I think we might’ve been a little bit displaced... Could anyone please tell us where we are?” Hariel paused, rubbing her aching elbow while casting a dubious look around.
“Are we even still in Scotland?”