“Gryffindor!” the battered old sorting hat sang. The Battle of Hogwarts had left a mark on the black and ugly old hat but could not scar its ability as a psychic to a young wizard or witch’s mind. Albus Severus Potter walked down to his Weasley cousins and his prankster of an elder brother sitting on the Gryffindor table, with a shy smile on his face and a twinkle in his green eyes. A murmur emerged at the mention of another Potter throughout the Great Hall.
“Silence!” the headmaster, Minerva McGonagall announced.
“Hey Al, don’t run off to the dormitories after dinner. We are going to visit Dobby and Hagrid.” James whispered into his brother’s ears as soon as he took a seat, squeezing himself between his brother and his cousin, Rose Granger-Weasley.
“Dobby? What is he doing with Hagrid? And Professor McGonagall clearly said that we are supposed to follow the prefects to our dormitories after the dinner.”
“Don’t worry about that. Adriana will easily excuse you. She adores you more than her first cousins.” Adriana Weasley, Gryffindor’s prefect, was Percy Weasley’s eldest, and followed her father’s footsteps to never break the rules. However, with the Weasley blood coursing through her veins, not to mention her idols being the Weasley twins, she was bound to make exceptions.
It was almost an hour to midnight when Albus, James and Rose sneaked out towards Hagrid’s hut.
Hagrid was the finest professor of Care of Magical Creatures, according to their parents. They had heard stories about him having a dragon for a pet, and also about Buckbeak. He used to bring all kinds of exotic owls over at Godric’s Hollow whenever he would babysit them.
They were greeted by the crowing of roosters before Hagrid’s hut even came into view. Voldemort might have been gone for good, but the wizarding world would never forget the horrors it had battled. Roosters reminded Hagrid of what Sirius said, “We all have got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.”
As they neared the hut, the trio could hear some muffled arguments. At the mention of the name “Harry”, their curiosity piqued. Tiptoeing closer, they were just about to press their ears to the doors when it burst open.
“Master Albus! Oh Master Albus, you have Master Harry’s eyes”, the little house elf squeaked. He was in the same battered clothes and was as tiny as Hermione had described him. Dobby was a free elf who had been stabbed with a knife by the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, twenty years ago. It was a miracle that he had survived even after being buried. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had dug up the grave of Dobby in the garden at Shell Cottage, to tell Dobby that the evil was gone for good. And how Bellatrix had been bravely dueled by Molly Weasley.
Harry could never explain it to himself, let alone anyone else about the moment that Dobby’s tiny little fingers grasped Harry’s large ones. He was only able to remember the furious beating of his heart, and his prayers of how he wished that this wasn’t an illusion. As it turned out, it wasn’t.
“Hello, Dobby! Who else is here? It seemed like people were arguing over here. And of course, I heard dad’s name.” James rolled his eyes. It wasn’t surprising to hear one of the best Auror’s name every now and then. Or of the Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger-Weasley. Ron, however, liked to maintain a low profile. He was the co-owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, while Ginny was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.
“Oh, it was Sirius. In his usual demeanor.” Dobby replied as he opened the door wider to let them in.
“And here we get another Potter and Weasley to start the year off again.” Sirius’s voice boomed, as the plain, white transparent ghost whooshed into their view, as he wrapped his ice-cold arms into a hug around them.