After returning to World I, Skyl didn't plan to travel around for the time being. The school year was almost over, and he intended to be a homebody at Hogwarts.
He signed up for the O.W.L.s in all twelve subjects. Even though everyone knew his level of knowledge, many classmates still worried for him. After all, he never attended class seriously. Merlin—if a guy who skipped lessons all the time could still get great grades, who knew how many young wizards would feel devastated.
Because he'd been missing for so long—and somehow the professors had tacitly allowed it—by the time Skyl returned to Hogwarts, it was already mid-May. There were fewer than twenty-five days left until the exams. At this point, both fifth-years and seventh-years (they had exams too) were already tense to the breaking point.
Percy, the model student, dragged Skyl into revision every day. He insisted on memorizing the textbooks until he knew them by heart. The copy of Intermediate Transfiguration that had been passed down from the Weasley family's eldest son was stuffed with bookmarks and notes, its spine rubbed flat and wrinkled. Percy soon discovered that no matter what he asked, Skyl never quite answered the way the textbook wanted.
He worried for Skyl. "Even if you have better knowledge, don't write anything beyond the textbook in the exam. The examiners won't be as forgiving as our professors."
"Only correctness, not truth. I understand," Skyl said, not objecting. He had Percy ask again, and this time his answer matched the book almost perfectly.
"For you, the O.W.L.s are going to be a piece of cake," his roommates said, sounding a little sour. They were going insane lately—studying nonstop while also researching all sorts of "mystical loopholes." Among fifth-years and seventh-years, various potions and talismans started circulating, supposedly helpful: from Baruffio's Brain Elixir to boost memory, to voodoo rat pendants meant to slap a Confundus Charm on the examiner. The students selling these were mostly Ravenclaws, and the way they swore by their products was persuasive enough to fool people.
In truth, clever students all knew these things were useless—cheap knockoffs. While revising, the prefects also had to crack down on the black-market supply chain, confiscate the random junk people bought, and stop that crooked trend from spreading through Hogwarts Castle.
But under that kind of pressure, even a good student like Percy couldn't resist placing a sprig of lucky four-leaf clover on his bedside table. Which just showed why this business never truly died: it existed for a reason.
Still, Skyl had subjects that troubled him too—and not just one.
He'd never put any effort into Care of Magical Creatures. Memorizing the textbook content wasn't an issue, but his practical skills were lacking. Dealing with animals wasn't something you could half-ass.
Then there was Divination and Arithmancy. Lately, Skyl had been researching the Law, and that theory touched precisely on fate, prophecy, and the like. In theory, Hogwarts divination should've been effortless for him. But fate wasn't that easy to deduce—the more you knew, the thicker the fog became. Skyl's predictions were especially unreliable, as if some powerful interference was at work; the results he divined often missed reality by an absurd margin.
He had a sense that a massive change would come in the future—something tied to all life on Earth. He didn't know whether it would be good or bad. Or perhaps his sense was simply wrong.
Either way, the exams were happening. Skyl gloomily figured he might not manage twelve Os, but it wasn't beyond saving. For example, in the remaining twenty-something days, he could spend more time interacting with magical creatures. So during lessons, Skyl often visited the gamekeeper's hut.
Guarding the Forbidden Forest was hard, lonely work, but Hagrid suited it well. He'd always been satisfied that he could stay at Hogwarts and have a job. And in the forest, he could deal with countless magical creatures—exactly the life he loved.
Hagrid was a huge man. Skyl knew he had giant blood, and plenty of Hogwarts students whispered the same. But Hagrid himself stubbornly refused to admit it. Giants didn't have a good reputation in the wizarding world—like werewolves and vampires, they were seen as an evil race by many witches and wizards.
Skyl first met him at the Leaky Cauldron. Back then, they'd only nodded at each other. Hagrid looked like a muddled, rough big oaf, but his mind was unexpectedly delicate—he remembered Skyl clearly. "Harry and the others always praise you when they visit. I've been thinkin' about when I could invite you for a cup o' tea."
"I'm here to ask for your help, Mr. Hagrid. I heard you're an expert on magical creatures…"
Skyl hadn't even finished before Hagrid let out a hearty laugh. His bright eyes, hidden in that thick hair and beard, glittered with joy. "You're too kind! Me, an expert? Nah. As you can see, I'm just the gamekeeper."
A simple man—two compliments and he'd be cheering. When Skyl was with Hagrid, he often felt a kind of plain, honest happiness. Hagrid could never sit still. Whenever he had time, he went into the forest to check on magical creatures, befriending many rare beasts. On ordinary days he also actively maintained the Hogwarts grounds—shoveling snow, scraping frost, patching and mending whatever needed fixing.
The young wizards at school often fantasized about the future: working at the Ministry and drawing a salary, opening a shop and building a career, traveling the world to meet people and broaden their horizons. Everyone was full of ambition—yet also a little lost and afraid. That anxiety about the future never appeared in Hagrid's hut. He didn't think about "what comes next," and he'd never considered changing the path of his life.
"Back when You-Know-Who was still runnin' wild… it was terrifying. I really don't ever want to live through that again."
So now, what he wanted from life was simply another steady job that lasted until old age, and then to die cleanly and thoroughly. Hagrid even added that if he was about to die of old age, he'd go lie down somewhere far from people, so that when wild beasts came, they could eat fresh meat.
Skyl followed Hagrid through the Forbidden Forest. Although school rules forbade students from entering, Skyl had specifically gotten a special permit from Dumbledore—using the excuse that a transfer student needed more extracurricular activity to make up for missed lesson hours. Magical creatures had all kinds of temperaments. Some were quite friendly and humanlike; others disliked outsiders. To befriend them, you needed patience, kindness, and sincerity.
Of course, forcing them with violence could also work—but many animals had more integrity than humans, and would often hurt themselves to show resistance. Back in the Lands Between, Skyl had gotten along very poorly with local beasts. He still remembered trying to befriend a flying dragon, and the end result was the Tower of Tomes gaining some dragon materials. He didn't think the problem was him—Kaia the owl was very affectionate with him.
With Hagrid's help, Skyl finally managed to handle the common magical creatures well enough. On the night he "graduated," he laid out a simple feast at Hagrid's hut—just the two of them. The main food was wheat cakes, with Texas barbecue, a mixed vegetable stew, and cheese sticks. The drinks were vodka and whisky.
Outside, the night wind wailed, mixed with rain that rattled against the crooked window in rapid clacks. On the greyed glass, distant candlelight from the castle flowed like a smear. Inside, the lamplight was warm; in the hearth, the charcoal burned down into a thick silver ash. Fang pounced on a huge slab of roast beef, chewing with his tail wagging furiously.
Halfway through the drinking, Hagrid heard some whistling outside. By then Skyl was already woozy. He only heard the half-giant say, "I'm gonna go out for a bit." He pulled on a thick beaver-fur cloak, pushed open the door, and vanished into the wind and rain.
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