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Chapter 503: Don’t Understand, But Respect
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 13:26:12 +0000 UTCWhen Kyle left the room and stepped into the Hufflepuff common room, the roar of noise that greeted him was so overwhelming it nearly knocked him off balance.
Before he could take a single step inside, a dozen hands grabbed him and yanked him into the room. Judging by the space—or lack thereof—at the door, there were probably dozens more hands itching to do the same.
“Pop, pop, pop!”
The sound of confetti canisters exploding filled the air. Brightly colored paper rained down as the entire common room erupted in cheers and joyous laughter. The volume of their celebration was deafening.
“Welcome, Champion of Hogwarts!” someone shouted.
Kyle turned toward the voice and spotted none other than Fred and George, somehow infiltrating the Hufflepuff common room. They looked absolutely thrilled with themselves, each holding a streamer launcher, one of which they seemed ready to fire again.
“You’re something else,” Cedric said, appearing through the excited crowd. “Professor Sprout was here earlier, and she was dancing with joy! I’ve never seen her so thrilled.”
“We’ve got everything ready,” Fred said, grinning ear to ear. “Seriously, having the kitchen so close is a game changer.”
“And Butterbeer!” George added enthusiastically. “The house-elves grabbed three massive barrels of it from Hogsmeade in just five minutes.”
Before Kyle could respond, he was swept up by the crowd and deposited at a table someone had set up in the center of the room. It was piled high with food, enough to rival the Hogwarts feast from earlier. Beside the table were the promised Butterbeer barrels, towering almost as high as Kyle himself.
Kyle opened his mouth to protest—he had already eaten his fill at the feast and wasn’t the least bit hungry—but his words went unheard. The crowd’s energy was unstoppable. Butterbeer was shoved into his hands, and every voice around him clamored for details about the Triwizard Tournament.
“What’s the first task, Kyle?”
“Do you know what you’ll have to do?”
“Is it dragons? I bet it’s dragons!”
Kyle raised his hands to calm them down. “I don’t know!” he said loudly, though his voice was barely audible over the din. “They haven’t told us anything. All I know is that it starts on November 30th.”
This explanation satisfied a few people, but others hadn’t heard him and kept asking the same questions. He repeated himself over and over, realizing for the first time just how many people could actually fit inside the Hufflepuff common room.
Hours passed in a blur of cheers, chatter, and an endless supply of Butterbeer. Finally, as the celebration began to wind down, Fred and George, leaning heavily on each other, made their exit with satisfied grins.
Kyle seized the opportunity to escape the crowd. He slipped away from the table and darted toward the dormitory stairs, his head spinning.
He had never drunk so much Butterbeer in his life, and he swore he couldn’t handle another drop.
...
He wasn’t sure how late they had celebrated, but when Kyle woke up on Sunday morning, the common room was nearly empty. Only a few people lingered. The mess of the previous night—crumbs, spilled drinks, and scattered decorations—had all been cleaned up, leaving no trace of the revelry.
“You’re awake. Do you want something to eat?” Kanna asked, placing a tray on the table. It held a few slices of bread, some ham, and a jug of pumpkin juice.
“Breakfast is over. I got this from the kitchen just now.”
“Thanks,” Kyle replied. He began to eat, stuffing the bread and ham into his mouth. However, he avoided the pumpkin juice entirely. Its resemblance to Butterbeer made his stomach churn just from looking at it.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked. Worried about being cornered into more conversations, he decided some fresh air would do him good.
“Okay,” Kanna agreed.
The two of them exited through the barrel door and walked down the corridor toward the castle grounds. Outside, Durmstrang’s grand ship floated on the Black Lake, swaying gently with the waves. Kyle wondered how anyone on board could possibly rest properly at night.
“Where are we going?” Kanna asked.
“How about Hagrid’s?” Kyle suggested after a moment of thought. “It’s been a while since we last visited his cabin.”
“Good idea.”
They strolled across the grass, heading toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. As they neared Hagrid’s hut, Kanna suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?” she asked.
“It smells like alcohol…” Kyle said, scanning the area. His eyes quickly settled on the source: a makeshift paddock not far from the hut. Hagrid was busy hauling large barrels into the enclosure.
As if sensing their presence, Hagrid turned and spotted them approaching. “Finally!” he called out, feigning irritation. “I thought you lot had forgotten where I live.”
“Of course not,” Kyle replied. “We’ve just been really busy. You know, OWL year—tons of homework.”
“That’s a rare complaint coming from you,” Hagrid chuckled. “By the way, congratulations on being chosen as a Champion. I knew it had to be you.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said. “What are you doing?”
“Getting breakfast ready for the Abraxans,” Hagrid replied, gesturing toward the massive, winged horses in the paddock. “They only drink pure malt Firewhiskey. I went to Hogsmeade early this morning to stock up. But it’s worth it, eh? Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Yes…” Kyle leaned against the fence, staring at the majestic creatures. Hagrid was right; the Abraxans were stunning. Unfortunately, they belonged to Beauxbatons, and there weren’t many of them.
Kyle shook his head and forced himself to look away.
By then, Hagrid had finished unloading the last barrel. He opened it with a loud pop, releasing a strong, heady aroma.
“That’s that,” Hagrid said, brushing off his hands. “Enough Firewhiskey to keep them happy all day.”
“Do they only drink Firewhiskey?” Kanna asked.
“Course not,” Hagrid said. “They’ll graze on the grass here too. And in the evening, I’ll give them fresh rue leaves—that’s what Madam Maxime recommended.”
For some reason, Hagrid chuckled to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Kanna asked, eyeing him curiously. Something about him seemed off today. His hair was unusually shiny, as if he’d slathered it in some kind of oil or polish. The effect was… difficult to describe, so Kanna decided not to comment.
“Nothing, nothing,” Hagrid said hastily. “Come inside for some tea.”
He led them back to his hut. Inside, everything looked as they remembered it: the enormous plank bed with its patchwork quilt, the oversized wooden table and chairs, and the roaring fire in the hearth.
As Hagrid busied himself making tea, Kyle’s attention was drawn to something hanging on the wall. It was Hagrid’s best—and ugliest—outfit: a shaggy brown overcoat paired with a yellow-and-orange striped tie.
Kanna noticed it too. They exchanged a glance but didn’t say a word. There was no need; they both remembered it vividly.
Last year, when Hagrid had first become a professor, he had worn that very outfit. Kyle had even suggested that he visit Gladrags Wizardwear for something more suitable. The shopkeeper there had a knack for finding the perfect style for anyone. But despite all that, this ensemble remained Hagrid’s favorite. He always dug it out for special occasions.
What could they say? They didn’t understand it, but they respected it.
Besides, there was probably a reason for it.
Hagrid, who stood over three meters tall, rarely encountered anyone of comparable size. Madam Maxime of Beauxbatons, however, was an exception. She was even taller than Hagrid by half a head. Perhaps their shared perspective extended to aesthetics as well. Maybe, just maybe, they both thought that outfit looked good.
It wasn’t entirely impossible.
