Chapter 18: The Squid of the Black Lake
Phineas Fawley clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to breathe. No one insulted a Fawley and got away with it.
"I've no idea what you're talking about," he said with an exaggerated calmness, though the twitch in his eye betrayed him. "Probably some kind of Muggle slang. But I'll tell you this—because of your bloodline, the gates of Slytherin will forever remain closed to you."
He tilted his chin upward, his voice dripping superiority. "Naturally, Ravenclaw wouldn't take you either. It's unwise to speak so rudely to a member of the Fawley family. But perhaps Gryffindor would suit you." He smirked. "You've already shown you've got… courage, at least."
He gave a self-satisfied snort, nostrils flaring like a peacock trying to reassert dominance after losing a fight.
Russell yawned. "That's kind of you, but no need to worry about me," he said lazily. "If I had to pick, I think Hufflepuff would be a better fit."
He looked at Fawley with a faint, amused smile — the kind that said I'm not taking you seriously at all.
"And as for your claim that Slytherin is the greatest house," he continued lightly, "well, of course it is — after all, You-Know-Who came from Slytherin, didn't he?"
Fawley froze, his face going pale.
"Oh, wait." Russell's tone shifted to mock sincerity. "My mistake. I forgot our current Headmaster is from Gryffindor." He leaned back, smiling faintly. "So that means Gryffindor must actually be the best one, right?"
He said it so gently, so conversationally, that it took Fawley a full second to realize he was being mocked.
Russell hadn't come looking for a fight — but Fawley's arrogance made it impossible not to deliver a little lesson.
The pure-blood boy's face darkened into the color of spoiled liver. He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out.
He seethed, trembling, then finally snapped.
"You— you ignorant mud—" he bit back the slur just in time, his voice rising. "You don't understand anything! Gryffindor's pack of foolish lions will never compare to Slytherin! Even Godric Gryffindor himself was—"
But before he could finish, Russell suddenly felt it — a pulse in the air, like the lake itself had drawn breath. His heartbeat quickened. An ancient instinct whispered danger.
Something vast and angry was moving beneath the water.
And though Fawley mistook Russell's alarm for fear, smirking triumphantly, he didn't notice the dark shape rising below their boat — until it was too late.
The next instant, a wet, slimy sensation coiled around his ankle.
Fawley froze. Slowly, he looked down.
And there it was — a thick, glistening tentacle, studded with round suction cups that pulsed like open eyes.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
His scream echoed across the still lake — and before anyone could react, he was yanked upward, dangling upside down as the tentacle whipped him through the air, spinning him like a rag doll.
Russell and the others could only watch as the massive appendage extended down into the depths of the Black Lake, where an immense shadow was rising to the surface.
A ripple spread outward — and then, with a thunderous splash, a colossal giant squid broke through the dark waters.
The creature's gleaming body reflected the moonlight as its long arms writhed with power. Russell could feel the thing's fury radiating from it, thick and heavy like a stormfront — and yet… there was restraint in its movements.
If it had truly meant harm, Fawley would've been torn to pieces already.
Russell's mind flashed to an old bit of trivia — something J.K. Rowling herself had once joked about:
["If Godric Gryffindor were still alive, he'd be the Giant Squid of the Black Lake — the world's greatest (and possibly oldest) Animagus."]
According to that tongue-in-cheek legend, every night around eleven, the squid would revert to Gryffindor's human form, strolling the castle grounds until sunrise.
Rowling had later clarified it was just a joke. But right now, watching Fawley flail helplessly for daring to insult Gryffindor, Russell wasn't so sure.
What if it wasn't a joke at all?
---
Hagrid's booming voice shattered the chaos.
"STOP! STOP, FINLEY! HE'S NOT YER ENEMY!"
He turned just in time to see Fawley's limp body dangling from the squid's grip, and his face went white as chalk.
Perhaps Hagrid's voice reached the creature — or perhaps the squid had simply vented enough of its anger. It released a low, resonant bellow, loosened its hold, and dropped Fawley with a splash into the water below.
The surface exploded in spray as the tentacles slapped the lake in one final, echoing strike — then, slowly, the monstrous shape sank beneath the black water, vanishing into the deep.
For a moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the boats.
Then Russell noticed movement below.
Dozens of thin, scaly, gray-green hands reached up from the depths, catching Fawley's limp form before he could sink. The figures that emerged from the darkness made Russell's breath hitch.
Merfolk.
They had long, moss-colored hair that floated like seaweed, pale yellow eyes that gleamed like lanterns, and sharp, angular faces. Necklaces of polished river stones hung from their sinewy necks, and their expressions were both fierce and intelligent.
One of them turned, catching Russell staring, and bared a row of cracked yellow teeth in warning.
Russell froze.
He knew better than to take merfolk lightly. They weren't mindless beasts — far from it. Their intelligence rivaled that of wizards, and they had a complex culture of their own: a distinct language, art, and music.
But they also knew how precarious their position was.
If a Hogwarts student died in the Black Lake — even by accident — the merfolk would be blamed. Wizards would have their excuse to "retaliate."
So, for the sake of peace, they intervened.
---
"Easy, easy there…"
Hagrid tapped his pink umbrella against the side of his boat, muttering a charm. The small craft surged forward, cutting through the lake like a speeding arrow, leaving a white wake behind.
He leaned out carefully and took Fawley's unconscious body from the merfolk's hands. "Thank yeh kindly," he said gruffly.
The merfolk nodded back — curt, but respectful — before diving silently into the dark water.
Hagrid sighed. "It's you again," he muttered under his breath. He remembered perfectly well — this boy had been the last to board. And now, he'd nearly caused an international incident.
It wasn't anger that twisted his expression, though — it was worry. Not fear of Dumbledore's punishment, but of his disappointment.
With a flick of his umbrella, the boats accelerated toward the shore, reaching it in record time.
---
"Off yeh go, quick now!" Hagrid ordered, ushering the dazed students out of the boats. He trudged ahead, carrying Fawley like a sack of potatoes, his long strides widening the gap with every step.
No one could keep up, but thankfully, there was only one path to the castle — a winding trail that led straight to Hogwarts' massive gates.
Three loud knocks boomed through the air — BANG, BANG, BANG!
The great oak doors creaked open with a drawn-out groan.
"Hagrid," came a sharp, unmistakable voice, "must you always knock as if you're trying to break them down?"
Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, tall and stern beneath her pointed hat, her expression a mix of irritation and concern.
Before she could scold him further, Hagrid blurted out, "Professor McGonagall, I'll explain later — this lad fell in the lake! I've got ter get him to Madam Pomfrey right away!"
McGonagall's eyes widened briefly, but when she saw that Fawley was breathing — merely unconscious — she exhaled in relief and regained her composure.
"I understand, Hagrid," she said crisply, "but leaving the rest of your first-years behind was not a wise decision. That too is dangerous."
Hagrid turned around — and froze.
The rest of the students were still halfway down the hill, panting and staggering toward them.
"Ah," he muttered sheepishly. "Right… sorry, Professor."
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Merlin give me patience," she murmured.
And as Hagrid hurried off toward the Hospital Wing with a soaked and snoring Fawley in his arms, Russell couldn't help but think—
Welcome to Hogwarts.