Whelp

'What is youse wanting for breakfast, Master Harry?' Nelli asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

'Ummm, I'm not sure,' he said. 'Toast?'

'And juice and eggs and ham, Master Harry?' Nelli suggested, bobbing her head up and down.

Harry grinned as his stomach gave an impatient growl. 'Yes, please. Thanks, Nelli.'

Nelli grinned back, showing her teeth, and disappeared with a pop. Harry returned to his room to dress. Selecting the clothes was easy, since Father had told him which ones were for play and which were not, and socks and underclothes took no time at all to get into. But when he tried to button his trousers, his injured hand wouldn't work right for him, still. And pain lanced through it, almost bringing tears to his eyes. He clenched his jaw against it and tried to do the buttons again. He just had to ignore the pain, like always.

With a last twinge from his hand, the button slipped into the hole, and he let his breath out in a gasp. There. No trouble.

He'd picked a pullover shirt, and that was easy, too, and he went out to breakfast a bit sweaty, and maybe lightheaded, but dressed. Nelli was already back with more food than he could ever imagine eating, but she made sure he took some of everything, and made sure he at least had some juice and milk and toast before she let him get up from table again.

'What is youse liking to do until lunch, Master Harry?'

'Can we go outside?' Harry asked the house elf.

Nelli hopped from foot to foot. 'Not the pitch, Master Harry. Master Snape says no pitch without--'

'His express permission. I know. But can we just go walking?'

'Oh, we can go walking, yes, Master Harry! Youse be getting your shoes on now and we can be going outside walking.'

Shoes. He wasn't going to be able to lace them. When all he'd had was Dudley's old shoes, he never had to worry about tying and untying, since they were always too loose and just slipped on over his feet. He looked at Nelli and took a deep breath. 'Can you help me?'

Nelli grinned. 'Yes, Master Harry! Nelli is helping you all day long. Here is your shoes!'

In moments, he was wearing shoes that seemed to lace themselves, and he gasped, watching them, then laughed. 'That was wicked!'

'We is ready to go outsides now, Master Harry?'

'Yes, please.' He led the way out of the dungeons, as Father called them, and to the main doors near the Great Hall, which he skirted around. Outside, the sun was shining, and though the air was warm, a nice breeze was blowing, so it wasn't hot. Harry shaded his eyes from the sun with his right hand and peered off toward the forest where he had been expressly forbidden to go. But near the forest, that was where Hagrid's hut was, supposedly, and he wanted to meet the half-giant.

'This way!' he shouted to Nelli and took off at a run, down the hillside. He heard the rise and fall of her voice calling behind him, and then beside him, cautioning him to be careful. 'I am,' he promised, and tucked his hurt hand closer to his chest.

He heard a dog's booming bark, before he ever saw the cottage, and the sound brought him up short. Ripper! He crept closer, much more slowly now, over the last little ridge, with Nelli trotting alongside him, looking worried. The round house with round roof sat toward the edge of the dark forest. A garden was spread out behind it, and Harry smiled, not recognizing any of the plants as ones he'd kept at the Dursleys, and liking it already for its differentness.

But the dog had a much lower and louder bark than Aunt Marge's Ripper, so he was pretty sure it wasn't him. Still, he was cautious as he approached the cottage. The door was standing open, he saw, and he sidled over a bit, to peek inside.

Just then, a big brown shape hurtled toward him, and he put up both hands to stop it from crashing into him. It didn't work. The mass of tongue, fur and drool knocked him completely over and snuffled at his ears. Despite the shock, he couldn't help but laugh out loud. 'Stop, please! Oh, stop!'

'Fang!' someone shouted. 'Geroff there, ye great beast. W'at ye have there?'

With a last sniff and lick of Harry's eyebrows, the huge dog leapt off him and circled around to go to an even huger man. Harry, lying on his back, looked up and up and up . . .

'Harry?' the man said, and his face showed surprise. 'Is it you, now? Harry Potter?'

'Harry Snape, sir,' Harry said, getting to his feet. He ran his shirtsleeve over his face, to wipe some of the drool off. Sticky! Fang had collapsed on the front stoop of the cottage and laid his head on his paws. 'My name used to be Potter, though,' he admitted.

'Ah, righ'. Professor did mention som'at about tha'.' The man smiled at him and took a step closer. Each of his hands looked the size of a platter, and his feet were covered in shoes as big as dustbins. His beard looked large enough to use as a blanket. 'Was wondrin' how long it'd take ye to find yer way down 'ere.'

'I've just got in, sir,' Harry told him. 'On Friday. Father says you're gamekeeper, and that you're genie- all.'

'Oh, now, call me Hagrid, lad. What's he mean, genie-all?'

'He meant you're kind, Hagrid, sir. He told me a story, about when you tried to keep Streelers, for bedtime last night. And how you wanted 'em as pets, even after the Headmaster wanted them all gone, 'cause of the wreck they were making of the gardens. They sound brilliant!'

'Ah, well, that was a long time ago.' Hagrid had turned a bit red, but he was smiling. 'Care for a bit of tea, Harry?'

'Yes, sir!'