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HRHL# Chapter 139: Poppy’s Slip-Up {2}
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 21:10:08 +0000 UTC“I’m friends with Mr. Flamel, after all, I took his Philosopher’s Stone…” Harry waved his hand in front of him with a little flourish.
“Oh.” Hagrid nodded, his mind already filling in the blanks—Dumbledore must’ve introduced Harry to Mr. Flamel…
Mr. Scamander gave a knowing dip of his head before speaking again. “This unicorn you mentioned—Miss Poppy—how is she usually? Could you tell me more about her, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Well…” Harry paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’d say Poppy’s usually pretty cheerful. She loves eating human food—and grass, too. Oh, right, like I wrote in my letter, after she tried the chocolate I bought, she said it was really sweet, even though the chocolate itself tastes bitter.”
“Could I have a taste of that chocolate?” Mr. Scamander asked.
Harry fished a piece out of his wallet and handed it over.
“Cool wallet—Undetectable Extension Charm, is it?” Mr. Scamander asked with keen interest. “You don’t see quality like this on the market anymore.”
“Gringotts gave it to me,” Harry said matter-of-factly.
To Mr. Scamander and Hagrid, it sounded like a joke.
“Haha! Those penny-pinching goblins at Gringotts giving you something like that?” Hagrid said, stroking his beard. “They’re the stingiest creatures alive, obsessed with gold beyond imagination. You might as well say you picked it up in Knockturn Alley! Which reminds me—Knockturn Alley’s dangerous, Harry. A young wizard like you shouldn’t wander in there. The dark witches and wizards might snatch you up!”
As he spoke, Hagrid clawed the air with his hands, playfully menacing Harry.
“Yeah, Knockturn Alley’s terrifying,” Harry deadpanned. “Thanks for the heads-up, Hagrid.”
“Good you know it.” Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s hear what Mr. Scamander has to say.”
Mr. Scamander picked up the chocolate, broke off a small piece, and popped it into his mouth, savoring it carefully.
“Pure dark chocolate, at least ninety-five percent cocoa,” he mused, tasting it thoroughly. “By all accounts, unicorns shouldn’t like this flavor.”
“So…” Harry ventured cautiously.
“If she were a normal unicorn, she wouldn’t touch chocolate, let alone call it sweet,” Mr. Scamander said with certainty. “And generally speaking, unicorns don’t talk…”
That last bit clicked something in Harry’s mind. True, Poppy was a unicorn, but she was also a Magizoologist—essentially human at her core.
Harry mulled it over. Could it be because Poppy’s human that she likes chocolate?
But that still didn’t explain mistaking bitter for sweet…
“It’s hard to say for sure,” Mr. Scamander said after a thoughtful pause. “After all, people’s constitutions differ, and who’s to say a unicorn’s couldn’t mutate too? Her ability to speak, like you mentioned, is a case in point.”
“I see,” Harry said, though doubts still swirled in his mind. He decided he’d ask Veratia about it later that night.
Since Poppy was a Magizoologist, Harry couldn’t help worrying—what if someone discovered the truth? Would it put her in danger?
But Mr. Flamel was different. He was an old friend of Veratia’s parents, and Veratia trusted him completely. Even Cassandra, who usually looked down on everyone, spoke of Mr. Flamel with respect.
“I think Tina and I should pay Mr. Flamel a visit,” Mr. Scamander said, a spark of excitement lighting up his aged face. “I’ve always loved magical creatures—though unicorns never take to human men…”
That made Harry think—Poppy and Mr. Scamander were kind of alike in some ways.
“That name, though…” Mr. Scamander mused, frowning slightly. “It feels familiar. I think one of my relatives was called Poppy…”
Harry glanced at Newt, his mind quietly churning.
The British wizarding world really was small—everyone seemed connected to someone else somehow.
Hmm, could there be descendants of Sebastian and Ominis around now too? Harry wondered.
As he daydreamed, Mr. Scamander suddenly lit up.
“Oh, I remember now!” he exclaimed. “My mother, Leta Scamander, was a Sweeting before she married. She had a sister named Poppy—Poppy Sweeting. Like my mum and me, she adored magical creatures…”
Harry: Huh?
So, the passion for magical creatures runs in the family?
“Sorry, the name just feels so familiar,” Mr. Scamander said with an embarrassed chuckle. “My mother said her sister—my aunt—disappeared before I was born. No one ever knew what happened to her. Unicorns live long lives, though. Maybe this unicorn with the same name was a friend of hers…”
Harry thought to himself, She didn’t just know your aunt—she is your aunt.
But even if he said it, Mr. Scamander might not believe him—or worse, take offense. So Harry kept quiet. If Poppy wanted to, she’d tell him herself.
“In that case, I’d better get moving,” Mr. Scamander said, barely containing his eagerness. “My mother’s dying wish was to find her sister. If this unicorn knows anything about her…”
“Here’s hoping,” Harry said sincerely.
Mr. Scamander, clearly a man of action, quickly apologized to Hagrid and Harry before hurrying out of the hut.
From the look of him, he was rushing home to fetch his wife, Tina, and head to France to see Poppy.
But just as he stepped outside, he turned back, pulling out his wand.
A sharp crack echoed from inside—like a plate smashing on the floor.
“Accio Niffler!”
With a flick of his wand, a black, duck-billed critter zoomed out of Hagrid’s cupboard and into Mr. Scamander’s hands.
“Sorry about that. This little guy’s always wandering off,” he said sheepishly.
“No worries, I love ‘em,” Hagrid said, brushing his beard.
Mr. Scamander stuffed the squirming Niffler into his pocket and left the hut for good.
As he faded into the distance, Hagrid cupped his hands over his mouth, wide-eyed.
“Merlin’s beard, who’d have thought there’d be a connection like that…”
“Yeah, totally unexpected,” Harry said, genuinely surprised.
A hundred years ago, he’d never heard Poppy mention a sister, let alone any family.
And since her sister’s son wouldn’t carry the Sweeting name, it hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Want some rock cakes?” Hagrid pulled out several massive slabs—each the size of a wagon wheel—and offered them to Harry.
Harry was about to politely decline, but Hagrid pressed them into his hands, so he thanked him and took them.
Guess I’ll soak them in water later. Once they soften up, they might not be half bad…
Wait, no.
Why not soak them in hot cocoa or milk instead? That’d taste way better.
“Hey, Hagrid, got any more rock cakes?” Harry asked. “I’d like to bring some back for Hermione and Ron.”
“Oh, plenty!” Hagrid beamed, thrilled Harry liked them, and stuffed over a dozen into his arms.
Harry tucked them into his wallet, waved goodbye, and said, “See you, Hagrid.”
“See you, Harry,” Hagrid replied with a grin.
It was Sunday—Halloween, no less—so there were no classes. Harry carried a rock cake back to the castle from Hagrid’s hut.
He lingered at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall until past ten, when Ron and the others finally shuffled in, yawning.
“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said mid-yawn. “You’re up early—what’s that in your hand?”
He squinted, still half-asleep.
“Rock cakes. Hagrid sent them for you lot,” Harry said innocently.
Ron’s face went from groggy to horrified in a flash.
“Merlin’s pants!” he yelped. “Harry, are you trying to kill us? How are we supposed to eat these monsters?”
“Relax.” Harry pulled out his wand and broke the cakes into smaller chunks.
“Still not edible,” Ron grumbled, picking up a piece and tapping it on the table.
True to their name, the rock cakes clinked like stones.
“See? This isn’t food!” he huffed, then quickly added, “No offense to Hagrid.”
“Maybe we just need a different approach,” Harry said, tapping the table. A glass of milk, a mug of hot cocoa, and some empty bowls appeared.
He dropped a few chunks into a bowl, poured in a splash of milk and cocoa, and let them soak until soft. Then he pressed down with a fork.
“Here, try this,” he said, sliding the bowl to Ron.
Ron eyed it suspiciously, one eye half-closed.
“Go on, I’m not tricking you,” Harry insisted.
Ron scooped up a piece with his fork and took a tentative bite.
“It’s actually soft!”
He lit up, popping the cocoa-milk-soaked morsel into his mouth.
“It’s delicious!”
Seeing Ron’s reaction, Neville and Seamus piped up skeptically. “Really? Aren’t rock cakes supposed to be hard?”
“Who says they’re hard? These are amazing!” Ron shoveled more into his mouth, then thrust the bowl back at Harry. “Make me more!”
“Do it yourself—cocoa and milk are right there,” Harry said. “I’ve got something to do, so I’m heading out.”
“Oh, alright,” Ron said, as he, Neville, and Seamus crowded around Harry’s spot to prep their own Hagrid-style rock cakes.
Harry left the Great Hall and slipped into the second-floor bathroom, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself.
But as he stepped out, that voice hit him again.
“Kill! Slaughter! Destroy them!”
Harry’s heart jolted, but the sound vanished as quickly as it came.
He paced the second floor, waiting for it to return, but after a while, he gave up and headed to the map room entrance.
With a flick of ancient magic, he slipped through the door into the hidden chamber.
“Harry?”
Veratia greeted him, her tone tinged with displeasure.
Harry approached her portrait, looking up at her puffed-out cheek.
“Fifty-five days, seventeen hours, thirty-six minutes, and two seconds,” Veratia said, arms crossed as she glared down at him. “That’s how long it’s been since you last visited me.”
“Oh—sorry, Veratia,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve been busy tracking down those two alchemical ingredients—”
“And? Did you find them?” she asked, narrowing her pretty eyes.
Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes! Gringotts got the Angel Feather from Professor Dumbledore. Rumor has it they traded forty percent of Honeydukes’ shares for it.”
Veratia blinked, caught off guard.
Not by how easily the feather was obtained, but…
“Honeydukes’ shares? Are those valuable?” she asked, puzzled.
“Honeydukes is a candy shop,” Harry explained. “And Professor Dumbledore’s got a sweet tooth—eats even Cockroach Clusters, you know, those moving candies that look exactly like real roaches.”
“Gross,” Veratia said, wrinkling her nose. “Well, that’s good news. I’ll forgive you for not visiting… What about the Basilisk Fang?”
Harry sighed. “No luck yet. Seems like those creatures haven’t been around for ages…”
He slapped his thigh, realization dawning. “Oh no! Mr. Scamander was just here—I forgot to ask him! He’s a magical creatures expert!”
“Mr. Scamander?” Veratia frowned. The name rubbed her the wrong way, though she’d never met anyone by it—just a gut feeling.
“Yeah, Mr. Scamander’s actually the son of Poppy’s sister, Leta,” Harry said with a grin. “But you know Poppy’s been staying with Mr. Flamel to recover. Mr. Scamander’s planning to visit her…”
He recounted the whole story to Veratia in detail, ending with, “I tried the chocolate Poppy ate, and it’s not sweet like she said…”
Before he could finish—
Crack!
Veratia’s portrait split again.
Veratia: (◣_◢)?!
“What did you say?! You ate the chocolate she ate?!”
