The hospital wing of Hogwarts had never lost its air of stern cleanliness, even with its high vaulted windows letting in the scented winds of late spring. Long rows of narrow beds lined both walls, each one shrouded with crisp white sheets that smelled faintly of soap and cleaning potions. Cabinets gleamed against the far wall, stuffed with neatly labeled vials, jars of salves, and rolls of fresh bandages. Gabriel could almost feel the faint hum of magic that hung in the air, the subtle wards that kept the infirmary sterile and safe.
Madam Pomfrey moved briskly between the beds with her usual sharp efficiency. She was a compact woman, hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun, her starched white apron swishing about her knees. Her eyes, dark and hawk-like behind her square spectacles, seemed almost able to pierce through skin and bone to the truth beneath. Which was a poetic way of saying Garbiel felt naked in front of her.
Perhaps because she had, in fact, seen him naked before.
"Hold still, Mr. Moretti," she instructed, deftly peeling away the bandages from Gabriel's hands. The air was cool against the exposed scars, now little more than thin dark lines stretched across the backs of his fingers and knuckles, each less than a couple centimeters thick. With a murmured spell, her wand tip glowed soft gold, sweeping over the marks to check the tissue beneath. A second charm whisked away the last traces of the herbal paste that had clung stubbornly after months of daily reapplications.
At last, she straightened, lips pursed. "This is the best I can do. " She declared.
Gabriel managed a crooked smile, he honestly didn't care as much about it as the older witch did. Still, he wasn't ungrateful, and he could see it came from a place of care.
"The difference is like night and day."
Pomfrey sniffed, unimpressed. "Yes, well. That does not mean you can go about repeating the stunt that caused them. No interacting with magical creatures without adequate protection. No meddling with magical plants unless you are wearing dragonhide gloves. And under no circumstances are you to attempt to beat another troll with your bare hands!"
Her voice sharpened at the last, and Gabriel ducked his head with a sheepish grin. "Wasn't planning on it," he said, though it came out more apologetic than convincing.
She gave him a flat glare. "See that you don't. And if - when," she corrected, "you get yourself injured again, you will come to me immediately. Even the most ordinary wound could worsen your condition. Do you understand?"
Gabriel nodded obediently. He definitely would. Maybe. 'Unless it looks like the scar will turn out cool', he thought privately.
Pomfrey's eyes narrowed, and for one terrifying instant he was sure she could hear his mind's voice. The deadly glare she leveled at him was enough to make him sit straighter on the bed, silent as a mouse.
Fortunately, salvation came in the form of a loud, pained groan from the next bed over.
"Oh, honestly, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey huffed, rolling her eyes as she turned away from Gabriel. "If you didn't want to feel pain, you should have come as soon as you got hurt."
Another pitiful moan was her only reply. She shook her head and went to fuss over her other patient.
Gabriel used the reprieve to study his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. He ran a fingertip over one of the thin scars, feeling the faint ridge of its rough texture. A little like stone, or a porous metal. Then he knocked his knuckles lightly against the stone wall beside his bed. No pain. His mouth quirked upward.
A throat cleared loudly. He looked up sheepishly to see Pomfrey staring at him from across the aisle with a supremely unimpressed expression. He scrambled for a distraction.
"I, uh-," he grappled for something to say. "Rumour around the castle is that Ron got himself bitten by a werewolf in the Forbitten Forest. Is that true?"
Her expression made it clear she knew exactly what he was doing, but she answered anyway while she began cleaning her instruments. "Hardly. Ronald injured himself with… something down at Hagrid's hut. Some tool he used while taking care of a beast Professor Kettleburn left in his care, no doubt, and I'd wager it hadn't been properly cleaned of its residues.
"Instead of doing the sensible thing-" She said, raising her voice deliberately. Ron's answer being an even louder moan. She pinched the bridge of her nose "-he decided to ignore it until it festered and became infected. Now he'll be spending the next few days fighting a fever while I make sure it doesn't turn into something worse."
Then a gleam entered her eye. She looked back at Gabriel. "Actually… Perhaps you could be of use, Mr. Moretti. Why don't you visit Hagrid's hut and ask him directly what it was that caused the injury? The man was infuriatingly vague when I pressed him at dinner. Knowing the creature involved would help me if nothing else get Weasley on his feet sooner."
Gabriel leaned back, considering, then shrugged with a smile. "Sure, why not?"
'Might be nice to finally have a proper talk with my fellow half-giant.'
-~=~-
The castle grounds still glistened with the last traces of last night's rain. Small puddles of rainwater and mud clung stubbornly to the shadowed corners where the sun hadn't yet reached. Gabriel adjusted his wide-brimmed hat against the wind as he made his way down the slope, boots crunching faintly against the damp grass.
The outline of Hagrid's hut came into view at the edge of the Forbidden Forest: a squat, one-room house of heavy timber and stone, topped with a crooked thatched roof. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, though the scent it carried was… odd. Instead of the expected sharp woodsmoke, Gabriel caught whiffs of something acrid, like soot mixed with alcohol, and beneath it the sharper tang of singed fur. His nose wrinkled.
By the time he reached the door, the odor was stronger, and he could hear faint chippering sounds - too high-pitched to be Fang, the giant dog he had occasionally seen the Groundskeeper accompanied by, and far too excitable. Gabriel raised his fist and knocked three times, solid thuds that echoed against the wood.
There was a startled crash from inside, followed by muffled cursing and the sound of something scrambling. Then a gruff, nervous voice:
"Who's there?!"
Gabriel leaned closer to the door. "It's Gabriel Moretti, sir. Madam Pomfrey sent me down to see what injured Ron Weasley, so she can figure out the proper treatment."
Silence. Then Hagrid's voice again, still rough but with a forced cheer that didn't sound at all natural.
"Ah, well - terribly sorry, lad, but there ain't nothin' here no more. Dealt with it meself, I did. Best if yeh just tell Pomfrey I got rid o' the thing."
Another crash inside, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a chair snapping. A shrill screech pierced the air, and Gabriel thought he heard a massive whoomph of something being doused.
"Is everything alright in there?" Gabriel asked, fighting to keep his voice steady as a smile tugged at his lips.
"All fine! All fine!" Hagrid's voice wavered. "Just - nothin' for yeh to worry about." Then, hurriedly, in a mutter not meant to be heard: "Quiet, Norbert, shhh - yer gonna give us away-"
Gabriel's smile widened. He stepped closer to the door. "Really? That's a pity. If you threw it away, then you know what animal you used it on, don't you?"
There was a pause. Hagrid coughed. "Er… it was a-"
A sudden roar inside cut him off. "FIRE!" Hagrid bellowed.
Gabriel blinked. "Fire?"
"No! No, nothin' like that- Fire Slugs!" Hagrid shouted back, voice cracking. "No, wait- Firecrabs! Yes, tha's it-" Another squeal interrupted him, followed by a frantic scuffle. "Er- Ashwinders! That's what it was. Horrible nasty things. Left me fire goin' too long in the fireplace 'cause o' the cold, and - well, woke up ta find the place crawlin' with them slytherin' pests."
Gabriel tilted his head, grinning. "In spring? And the hut didn't burn down?"
Hagrid hesitated. "Er- well, tha's 'cause-"
"And you said it was a thing you threw out, not something that bit him."
Another pause. Then, desperate: "Yeh heard me wrong! Always had a terrible memory, I do. Ever since I was a student, see-"
Gabriel drew out a long, knowing: "Ahhhhh." And then he fell silent.
Moments pass in relative silence, except for whatever was trying to kill the poor man inside his home.
Inside, Hagrid stilled. "...Yeh still there?"
Silence.
The half-giant let out a relieved sigh. "Tha' was close. Yeh nearly got Mama in real trouble there, yeh naughty thing," he muttered in a low rumble. "Nearly gave us both away."
A shrill screech answered him.
"Quiet now, Norbert- no- hey! Geroff!"
There was a commotion, then the sound of a massive body shifting and Hagrid yelling: "OI! NOT ME FACE- !"
That was enough for Gabriel. He leaned forward in a rush. "Mr. Hagrid, I heard a scream, do you need help I'mcomingin"
He slammed the door open with a crash.
The sight before him was pure perfection. Hagrid, red-faced and sweating like a furnace, stood in the middle of the room wearing a frilly pink apron smeared with soot. His beard was singed at the ends, curling into blackened tufts. And in his enormous hand, pinched carefully between two fingers by the scruff of its neck, wriggled a baby dragon- scales glinting like coal, smoke curling from its nostrils as it snapped playfully at Hagrid's nose.
Gabriel's grin stretched ear to ear, the most self-satisfied smirk imaginable.
"Oh, Merlin," he said, almost reverently. "This is beautiful."
-~=~-
Hagrid eventually slumped into a chair that creaked under his weight, Norbert still wriggling in his enormous hands. With a deep, resigned sigh, he began to tell Gabriel the whole story. About the stranger in the pub who'd wagered a dragon egg over a card game. About how he'd carefully hatched it by the fire, cooing over the first crack in the shell. About how he'd been feeding, bathing, and - so far - barely surviving the dragon's explosive personality.
"Norbert," Hagrid said proudly, holding up the squirming hatchling like a prize. The baby dragon immediately tried to gnaw on his beard.
Gabriel chuckled. "You know, I always wanted to have a dragon. Mum never let me. Said they were dirty creatures."
"Dirty?!" Hagrid's eyes went wide. "Nonsense! Me Da always said they'd burn the house down, but look at me! Kept this one unburnt just fine!"
As if to prove him wrong, Norbert sneezed a puff of smoke into his face, singeing his eyebrows.
Gabriel burst out laughing. "Yeah. Real safe." Then, with a sly smile: "So… Norbert's the one who bit Ron, wasn't he?"
Hagrid grimaced but gave a reluctant nod.
Grinning, Gabriel reached out a hand to pet the scaly little menace, only to snatch it back when Norbert lunged for his finger with a snap of tiny teeth. Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head.
His smile faded into a sigh. "You have to tell Madam Pomfrey."
Hagrid stiffened. "Now hold on—"
"No, listen, I'm serious" Gabriel cut in firmly. "If she doesn't know Ron was bitten by a dragon, she can't treat him properly. His fever could be Dragon Pox, for all we know."
The half-giant's face twisted with conflict. He huffed, waving one massive hand. "Bah. Dragon Pox ain't even tha' bad fer kids. Better he gets it now than as a man grown. Builds immunity, yeh see?"
Gabriel arched an eyebrow. "Is that really the example you want to set for Norbert? As his… mama?"
Hagrid looked down at the hatchling, who at that moment was trying to chew on the hem of his pink apron. His lower lip trembled. His eyes grew wet and wide. He sniffled.
Gabriel rolled his eyes and looked away, hiding his smile.
"I- I can't," Hagrid finally choked out. His voice broke. "If they find out… the Headmaster'll be in trouble. Already done so much for me, Professor Dumbledore has. Took me in, gave me a place when no one else would. People'll say he's mad for trustin' me. Say he let me put a monster back in the castle again, that a boy got hurt 'cause of me-" His words broke into sobs.
Gabriel winced as Hagrid suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist, hugging him tightly as he wept. Gabriel patted his massive shoulder awkwardly, half-pinned by the giant's strength.
"Oh, come on. There's nothing anyone could do to get Dumbledore in trouble," Gabriel said, voice firm. "He's Dumbledore, you know? A troll attacked the school and nothing happened. There's a three-headed dog on the third floor and no one even cares."
Hagrid sniffled. "Fluffy's a sweety. Wouldn' hurt a fly."
Gabriel snorted. "Of course the Cerberus is named Fluffy." He muttered, then raised his voice again. "But look - if you don't want people to attack Dumbledore, then hiding this is the worst thing you could do. If you respect him so much, you should be honest with him. Man up and take responsibility for your choices."
The words seemed to cut through Hagrid's despair. The half-giant straightened suddenly, wiping at his face with his apron and only smearing soot further across his cheeks.
"Yer right," he said, voice wobbling but resolute. "Yer right. I gotta fix this." He surged to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. "I'll go to Dumbledore meself, tell him the truth. Gabriel, yeh watch Norbert fer me!"
And with that, still wearing the frilly pink apron and covered in soot, Hagrid lumbered out the door in a hurry.
Gabriel stared after him, incredulous. Then he slowly turned back to the dragon. Norbert blinked up at him, eyes gleaming like hot coals.
"Honestly." Gabriel huffed. "Did he forget this whole mess started because Norbert bit someone?"
The dragon hissed.
Gabriel hissed back, baring his teeth. "Don't you even try. I bite back."
Norbert growled - and then puffed a tongue of flame at him.