Better Be Slytherin!

'Ah.' Pausing as he set out a plate, piled high with wedges of treacle fudge, Hagrid looked embarrassed for a moment. 'Shouldn't've said that. I should not 'ave said tha'.'

'No, it's okay, Hagrid. Don't worry,' Millie quickly assured him, smiling. She seemed very comfortable in the big chair, swinging her legs back and forth to bang her feet on the rungs, and Fang appeared content to have his ears scratched as he rested his head in her lap. 'We'll never tell.'

Hagrid flashed her a big smile. 'Yer a good'un, Mill'cent. A real good'un. Just 'ave some of that fudge, a'right?' he said, and pointed a meaty finger at the plate. 'Made it meself this mornin'.' He turned back to the fireplace to collect the tea pot.

'Thanks.' Millie bit into a piece and spent the next ten minutes trying to chew the sugary treat without losing a tooth. 'S'good,' she remarked, and Harry shook his head at her, bemused. He liked treacle quite a lot; it was his favorite pudding, bar none, but Hagrid's effort didn't look very appetizing, and he hadn't eaten any of his portion yet, planning to feed it to Fang. That's where the burnt smell came from, he was sure.

'Does the Headmaster's business have anything to do with the cerberus on the third floor?' asked Teddy. 'You know,' he added, with deliberate casualness. 'Fluffy.'

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

'How do yeh know about Fluffy?' he asked, all cheerfulness and friendliness gone from his voice.

'So you do know about it,' Teddy said.

Hagrid frowned and pulled out a cloth as wide as a quilt to mop up the mess. 'Well, yeah -- he's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I jus' lent him to Dumbledore to guard the. . .'

'Yes?' said Teddy eagerly when Hagrid trailed off.

'Now, don't ask me anymore,' said Hagrid gruffly. 'That's top secret, that is.' He looked over his shoulder to the left, then right, as if someone else might be listening to the conversation while in this very room. He then pointed a large finger at Teddy. 'Who told yeh about my Fluffy, then?'

Harry jumped in quickly to rescue his friend. 'No one told us, Hagrid. We found out accidentally.' He supposed overhearing something might be considered 'accidental,' if a person didn't go out of their way to listen in.

He sighed; who was he kidding? It was a lie, and he hated needing to lie to Hagrid. He was starting to think that bringing Teddy along might not have been the best idea for fixing his friendship with Hagrid. Given Teddy's doggedness over this issue for the last month or so, Harry knew that his dorm mate wouldn't just let the matter go, but would worry at it like a dog with a new toy. Teddy was the one who'd overheard Hagrid speak to the Headmaster about the 'you-know-what' the cerberus was guarding, and had been intrigued by the mystery ever since, becoming even more so once Harry had told him and Millie about his vision of the unicorn killer. All this, despite the fact that Teddy also seemed to want Harry to tell their Head of House about what he'd sensed from his vision, and kept telling Harry and Millie that, as first years, they shouldn't be responsible for fixing this problem.

He was right, of course.

Then again, Harry himself was intrigued by the mystery involving dead unicorns, a mysterious item being heavily guarded, Quirrell's attack on him and the Baron, and the pain in his scar . . . and not just because it was his life being threatened, although that obviously played a fairly big role.

So . . . Maybe Hagrid could help them discover who was behind the whole thing, focusing on whoever was trying to steal the you-know-what. Somehow, Harry doubted it was the stuttering, bumbling Professor Quirrell; he was too incompetent to be a real thief. Maybe Hagrid could help them thwart the true villain.

Suddenly recalling his first and only time at Gringotts, and Hagrid's little side trip when they were in the tunnels, as well as an article in the Daily Prophet just after school started, Harry put two pieces together and took a chance on his instincts being right.

'Hagrid . . .' Harry gave Teddy a look that asked him to go along with what he said, and the other boy nodded minutely, agreeing. 'Have you noticed anything weird about Professor Quirrell this term? Aside from the stuttering, I mean?'

Hagrid shook his shaggy head. 'Nah. 'E's same as always. . . . Though, now ye mention it, he never did 'ave tha' stutter b'fore. Picked it up in 'is travels, I guess.' Hagrid had put another teapot on to boil, and he now filled their mugs to the rims before easing his large frame into one of his chairs; it barely creaked. 'Why ye ask?'

Hesitating only a second, Harry plunged on, 'We think someone's trying to steal what Fluffy's guarding. You know, that package you picked up from Gringotts.'

Hagrid's eyes grew wide and he pushed his chair back with a loud screech of wooden legs on wood floor. 'Now listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous, and it's nothin' to do with Perfesser Quirrell, I can tell ye that much right now. So you jus' forget my Fluffy, an' yeh forget what 'e's guardin'. That ain't none of your business. It's jus' between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and ain't no concern of yours at all.'

'Aha!' said Millie, having finally unstuck her teeth, and sounding quite triumphant, but whether about the unsticking, or what she was saying, no one knew, 'so someone called Nicholas Flamel is involved, is he?'

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

To Harry's regret, despite a fairly nice chat until dinner time, once the unpleasantness of Hagrid's fuming was over, their visit could have gone much better.

All in all, Harry was sure that Hagrid didn't believe him about someone -- likely Quirrell -- trying to steal the item in question, so it was just as well he had already discussed it with Snape. He hoped that Snape really did make sure that the protections on The Thing were double checked, as he certainly did not want Quirrell -- or anyone else with malicious intent -- to get their hands on something that had once needed to be guarded by such secure measures as goblins could provide, and was now guarded by a three-headed hell hound. Not to mention, he figured that Quirrell, having already failed to kill Harry twice, would not hesitate to try again, if it should be within his power to do so. The whatever-it-was was probably something to aid the professor in that job.

After dinner, the three of them chatted together about the 'project' and their possible courses of action, going forward. The visit with Hagrid had given them valuable information, Harry was willing to admit. Based on the man's reactions, they reasoned, they now had a better chance of figuring out what The Thing was. For one thing, from Harry's recollection of his Diagon Alley expedition, The Thing was small enough to fit in Hagrid's palm. Harry