Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 170, Page 169: Hagrid's Inner Conflict and His Refusal to Serve Professor Lockhart

Even though he had repeated it countless times, Ron still showed no sign of getting tired of it.

Hagrid was indeed a good listener. He not only joined in with gasps and laughter, but also echoed his own experiences—for example, how terrifying the Forbidden Forest was without moonlight last night.

Hagrid laughed even louder when Ron vividly imitated the unpleasant Zacharys cowering behind Davis because he was afraid of the dark. People from Gryffindor hate cowards, especially those who use others as shields.

This cheerful atmosphere continued until Ron uttered the words "Eight-Eyed Spider," at which point Hagrid fell silent, simply listening quietly to what had happened.

“I just threw a torch! I learned that trick from Harry, and it made the spiders shrink back!” Ron said excitedly. “They are really afraid of fire. I don’t know how to make you understand how terrifying it was. The spiders surrounded us like water around the firelight, as if they were about to pounce on us and bite us to death at any moment.”

“When you throw the torch, you can see them screaming and trying to get away, just like throwing a stone into water. And it really does kill a lot of little spiders,” Ron said with a look of disgust. “The smell is disgusting just thinking about it.”

“My clothes still stink today,” Neville said weakly. “Hannah slapped two spiders on my back, and their bodily fluids… ugh—sorry!”

“Me too…” Neville’s words also stirred up Ron’s memories. He said, his face pale, “To be honest, I thought I would never be able to face spiders again in my life—hey, what are you doing?!”

As he finished speaking, Ron suddenly turned around and shouted at Hermione, feeling a sharp pain in his shin from her kick.

“Yes, we already know about this,” Hermione said irritably. “Fred turned the teddy bear you were holding into a giant spider because you broke his toy broom, and ever since then you’ve been terrified of spiders—I mean, can you at least look at the situation?”

Hermione nodded toward Hagrid.

Ron's story was no secret after he recounted it repeatedly, and Hermione didn't want to hear this idiot boast about his growth and how he fought the spiders again when they were alone.

It's one thing if others don't know, but all the apprentices participating in the trials know who they are.

“Hagrid?” Ron turned his head and said, then he saw a dazed Hagrid, which startled him. “Hagrid?! Are you alright?!”

“…It’s nothing.” Hagrid sniffed hard, wiped away his tears, and asked, “Continue talking about the eight-eyed giant spiders. I want to know about them.”

"Them?" Hermione and the other two exchanged glances.

Shouldn't it be them?

Then Ron continued his story, but this time, even the usually oblivious Ron was a little cautious, afraid that he might say something wrong and anger Hagrid.

"...Did that spider really say that?" Hagrid suddenly asked after Ron stopped talking. "Fresh meat, prey and all that...did he really say that about you?"

“Yes, it even complimented us on how tender our meat was,” Neville nodded.

Then Hagrid stopped talking and just kept chugging alcohol down his throat. His crazy behavior scared the three kids so much that they didn't dare to speak. They turned their heads and gave Harry meaningful glances, urging him to do something about it.

When Hagrid finished his drink and tried to refill his glass, Harry placed his hand on it.

“That’s enough, Hagrid. That’s not how you drink this stuff,” Harry sighed. “You’re supposed to laugh out loud when you drink chuckles.”

“…I can’t laugh, Harry.” After a moment of silence, Hagrid’s tears streamed down his face. “I didn’t expect—I’m sorry—I apologize on Aragog’s behalf—I never imagined his child would…put you in danger…”

“Aragok?” Ron asked cautiously.

“That was my friend…and I hatched him, and I watched him grow up little by little…” Hagrid slowly recounted the story of the past in a nostalgic tone.

Everything was exactly as Dumbledore had told him that night—well, the only difference was perhaps Hagrid's own subjective impression.

In Hagrid's memory, although Riddle reported him for keeping an eight-eyed giant spider without permission, which directly led to his expulsion, having his wand broken, and being sent to Azkaban, he did not hate Riddle.

“I don’t blame him,” Hagrid sighed repeatedly. “He had no choice. I did make a mistake, but Aragog is innocent. I can’t just watch them execute him.”

Ron and his two companions exchanged glances. They knew exactly who Tom Riddle was, and Harry hadn't hidden this fact—which gave them a deeper understanding of Voldemort's former allure.

Even after being reported and unjustly accused, you still won't hold a grudge against the person who reported you? Hagrid, you bastard...

“You’re very kind, Hagrid,” Harry took a deep breath, “but I’m afraid I have to tell you that there are a lot… too many” giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest.

"Especially after the centaur tribe migrates to a new place, it is expected that their territories will not come into contact for a long time. But before that, the eight-eyed giant spider will be able to grow freely in the Forbidden Forest without any natural enemies—you should understand what that means, right?"

“That means fewer other magical creatures, less material to produce in the Forbidden Forest, and less income for the school,” Hagrid muttered. “That won’t do. I can’t cause trouble for Headmaster Dumbledore… What do you think, Harry?”

After decades of growth, Hagrid had become an expert, at least in the field of magical creatures, so he could easily find the answer.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Hagrid,” Harry said seriously. “In fact, the Shaman class has a long-standing homework assignment—every apprentice who passes the first trial will begin trying to clear the eight-eyed spiders from the Forbidden Forest.”

“We’ll act within our capabilities. At first, we’ll only deal with the baby spiders, but the difficulty of the targets will gradually increase until we reach the adult spiders,” Harry briefly explained his plan, glancing at Hagrid with some concern.

“Oh, that’s certainly a good plan, Harry.” Contrary to Harry’s expectations, Hagrid was not angry or upset upon hearing the plan to target the giant spider. Instead, he spoke up in support, “This way we won’t have to worry about Aragog’s children being everywhere. To be honest, it’s quite dangerous for them to venture out of the Forbidden Forest.”

“…I thought you would object,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t Aragog your friend?”

“Yes, my friend, I watched him grow from such a tiny little thing into a baby. He’s like my own child, and we’re very close. Oh, he’s so adorable…” Hagrid’s eyes welled up with tears as he spoke.

"...I find it hard to connect the terrifying monsters we saw yesterday, who were only two of my height, with the word 'little furry child,'" Ron whispered to Neville, barely able to contain himself.

"me too."

Hagrid, of course, couldn't hear the children's whispers; his eyes were already blurred with tears.

“…I know what you’re worried about, Harry,” Hagrid slapped his tears onto Harry’s back. “Aragog is indeed my friend, but his children aren’t—thankfully nothing happened to you, or I would never forgive myself for the rest of my life.”

"Huh?" Harry was taken aback.

“And when I last visited Aragog, he was already very old, with only a few years left to live,” Hagrid sighed softly. “Once he dies, his children… well, I don’t want to say it, but a few times when I went to Aragog’s house, I felt a little creeped out… their gaze, you know.”

Ron and Neville nodded emphatically.

Those were definitely looks of longing.

"I see," Harry understood completely.

Or rather, he had a general understanding of Hagrid's unusual concept—friends are friends, and friends' children are friends' children.

So the only thing Hagrid cared about was Aragog, the spider he had invested his emotions in, and he even found him a wife. But that was all. Hagrid was very clear about the value of life; at least he didn't think the life of the eight-eyed spider was more valuable than that of the little wizard.

"Let's drink," Harry said, removing his hand and filling Hagrid's glass. "Don't worry, Hagrid, I'll handle it—we might even throw him a funeral after Aragog passes away, you'll like it."

“Really?” Hagrid said, his eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you. You’re so kind, Harry, just like Lily.”

Without answering, Harry simply raised the cup in his hand.

done.

....................................

The pain of a hangover is always unavoidable, and even Harry's current physique cannot prevent it, after all, as a drinking buddy, Hagrid is indeed a bit too much of a drinker.

His half-giant blood gave him a stronger body and a resistance to alcohol than Harry, which meant that Harry had to expend a lot of effort to get Hagrid drunk—or rather, to get both of them drunk.

Unlike mead, gurgling spirits really do have that power... Americans do have some taste sometimes.

So when Harry woke up the next day, he couldn't even remember how he got home for a long time—yes, Harry was pretty sure he was lying in his bed in his home in Mulgore, the world of suitcases.

"You're finally awake? Harry!"

Harry's actions after waking up attracted the attention of those sitting in the living room. Hermione rushed in from the doorway, looking relieved.

"Good heavens, you're finally awake! You have no idea how much effort we put into getting you and Hagrid settled yesterday. Would you like some water? Or something to eat first?" Before Harry could even speak, Hermione had already rattled off a whole string of words.

“…Some water, please,” Harry said in a hoarse voice. “What happened last night…? I remember we were at Hagrid’s hut.”

“Actually, we’re in Hagrid’s cabin right now,” Hermione replied bluntly. “You and Hagrid are too drunk. We can’t carry you back to the castle reeking of alcohol. Professor McGonagall would go crazy if she found out.”

"So Ron made a special trip to the Gryffindor tower to retrieve your suitcase. And those two helped you change your clothes, remember to thank them."

“Okay, I will,” Harry said, rubbing his temples. “Thank you too, Hermione.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Hermione’s face suddenly turned a little red. “Anyway, you need to get up quickly. We’ve already missed breakfast, and if we’re any slower, we’ll miss the first class.”

"what class?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Hermione exclaimed cheerfully. "Professor Lockhart's."

Upon hearing the name, Harry felt a strong urge to lie back down and go back to sleep.

“No skipping classes, Harry,” Hermione’s gaze sharpened. “Remember what you promised Professor McGonagall? Even if you become a professor, you can’t neglect your other courses. You haven’t graduated from your wizarding course yet.”

“…Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Harry couldn’t help but sigh, “I understand.”

As the two were talking, Ron and Neville came downstairs. After a quick wash, Harry and his friends climbed the ladder out of Mulgore, rubbing their heads which felt like they were about to explode. As soon as they came out, they could hear Hagrid's snoring, which sounded just like thunder.

“I really envy him,” Ron said frankly. “I wish I could sleep like that too.”

“You can’t sleep forever, Ron,” Hermione said irritably. “You need to acquire enough knowledge to find a good job.”

“Exams, job hunting, overtime,” Ron said with a pained expression. “Thank you for reminding me that there are still things to do so early in the day.”

"It's getting late, you're already in second grade."

“I thought we graduated in seventh grade, ma’am.”

"..."

The group bickered as they walked toward the castle, and when Harry finally sat down in the classroom, exhausted, he looked at the figure walking in with light steps and suddenly felt a pang of regret.

“Aha, welcome! Boy who survived!” Lockhart said with a bright smile as he stood at the front of the podium. “I know it’s exciting for you to become a professor at the age of twelve, but it must be a shame that you missed my first class.”

Harry missed many classes last week, as he spent the entire week working on becoming a full-time professor at Hogwarts.

Lockhart, at the very front of the classroom, continued his incessant chatter. He pulled a book out of nowhere and held it to his chest. On the cover of the book, Lockhart was still blinking and smiling brightly.

"—Because that was Gilderoy Lockhart's first lesson after becoming a professor," Harry said, turning towards Harry's direction. "The Order of Merlin, Third Class; an honorary member of the League of Anti-Dark Arts; and a five-time winner of Wizarding Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—don't just talk about those honors, I didn't exorcise the ghost of Warren with a smile!"

"...Then what are you saying now?" Ron muttered, looking down. "Isn't that what you always say?"

“I’ve heard this at least three times already,” Simon whispered in agreement.

“Shut up, you two,” Hermione whispered. “He’s watching us.”

"What did you talk about in the last class?" Harry asked abruptly.

“Reading,” Ron sighed. “He had Parvati read the stories from the book ‘Walking with Trolls.’ According to him, he didn’t want to talk too much before everyone in the class was actually there, because that would cause some people to miss out on real, useful knowledge.”

“Without a doubt, Harry, he’s been waiting for you,” Dean whispered, shifting his position closer. “But to be honest, I’m not envious of you at all—this is absolutely a nightmare.”

“You’re right, my friend,” Simon agreed.

"...Anyway, now that we're finally a complete class, let's start with a short quiz," Lockhart's cheerful voice carried to the back of the classroom. "Look at your face, my goodness, don't be afraid—this quiz isn't difficult."

"Now that you have bought my complete works and a week has passed since the start of the semester, I just want to see how well you have read them and how much you have understood."

As he said this, Lockhart handed out the test papers he was holding.

“I have a bad feeling,” Harry said seriously. “This is the first time I’ve seen a Hogwarts professor hand out exam papers by hand instead of tapping them with a wand.”

In less than a minute, Harry's bad premonition had become a reality.

He looked at the exam paper in his hand and found it hard to believe that it was a proper exam paper.

The first question is: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
The second question is: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
The third question is: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
There were fifty-four questions in total, and the last one was even about Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what his ideal birthday present would be.
Gilderoy Lockhart Gilderoy Lockhart Gilderoy Lockhart—this name is everywhere! Can this even be called an exam paper?!

It has absolutely nothing to do with knowledge! It's more like an exam paper in a fan group, but it has absolutely nothing to do with teaching knowledge!
Harry was trembling with excitement because he had found a perfect target—a target that would allow Professor McGonagall to vent her anger and stop focusing on him because of the trial—Giddro Lockhart!
(End of this chapter)