Hagrid's Hut

On Thursday evening, Silas looked at the crooked note he had written—handwriting had always been one of his weaknesses—and found Hermione, who was scribbling furiously in the library.

"Hey, Granger." Silas handed her the note. "Hagrid—the huge gamekeeper I introduced you to before—invited me to his hut for tea tomorrow afternoon. Want to come? He said the Rock Cakes he baked are... well, quite distinctive."

Hermione looked up from her pile of books, took the note, and read it. Her eyes lit up. "Sure! I've been really curious about Mr. Hagrid! And we don't have classes on Friday afternoon. I can head straight there after Potions Class!"

Around 2:55 on Friday afternoon, Silas and Hermione met at the castle entrance and headed toward Hagrid's hut together. Hermione still looked a little shaken.

"That Potions Class was terrifying," Hermione said, patting her chest. "I don't know what happened to Neville, but he melted his cauldron. Green slime splashed everywhere, and he burned himself too. Professor Snape sent him to the Hospital Wing with a grim face. I hope he's all right."

Silas shrugged. "Longbottom... he probably isn't very good at things that require precise handling and strong nerves, especially in Snape's class." He paused, his tone calm. "But I noticed he does very well in Herbology Class. Professor Sprout praises him often. On the other hand, I'm not very good with flowers and plants. They always seem to grow too slowly. Everyone has different strengths, so there's no need to force it."

Hermione looked at Silas in surprise. She hadn't expected this guy, who usually seemed indifferent to everything and could even be a little sharp-tongued, to say something so insightful. She nodded. "You're right."

Talking as they walked, they soon arrived at the small stone hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest—small, at least, by Hagrid's standards. A crossbow and a pair of rubber boots sat by the door. Familiar with the place, Silas stepped forward and knocked.

The door opened, and Hagrid's enormous figure nearly filled the entire doorway. When he saw Silas, a warm, honest smile spread across his face. "Hello, Silas!" Then he spotted Hermione beside him. "And Miss Granger! Come in, come in!"

Hagrid ushered them into the warm hut. There was only one room, with hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, a roaring fire in the hearth, and a copper kettle steaming away. Fang, the black boarhound, eagerly bounded over, but when he saw the Niffler in the cage Silas carried, he immediately backed away several steps and let out a low whine.

Hagrid noticed the Niffler too, and an affectionate expression appeared on his huge, furry face. "A Niffler! Merlin, what a lovely little thing, though they can certainly cause trouble... Oh, Fang, don't get worked up. Back off. It won't hurt you!"

After soothing Fang, Hagrid enthusiastically invited them to sit down and brought out enormous Rock Cakes—about as hard as stones—and drinks that looked like milk tea, though their color was somewhat suspicious. "Harry Potter will be coming later too," Hagrid said excitedly. "I can introduce you! He's a great kid!"

Silas politely declined the Rock Cakes. He merely lifted his cup, sniffed it, and set it back down. Hearing Hagrid's words, he shook his head. "Thanks, Hagrid, but I'm not particularly interested in meeting the Boy Who Lived."

Then his tone shifted, and a smile appeared on his face. "I brought you a gift, Hagrid."

As he spoke, he raised a hand and drew a circle in the air. A golden portal opened instantly, revealing an elegantly decorated liquor cabinet filled with all kinds of bottles on the other side. Silas reached through and precisely took out a bottle of amber Bourbon Whiskey that looked extremely expensive.

"Fine Bourbon Whiskey." Silas handed the bottle to Hagrid, whose eyes instantly widened like saucers. "From my father's collection. Just a small gift to thank you for the invitation."

Hagrid took the bottle, both hands trembling slightly. He looked at the liquor, then at the portal that had just vanished, and became so excited that he could barely speak. "Merlin's beard! Silas! This... this is far too valuable! And that... that door of yours! It's so convenient!"

He lovingly stroked the bottle, clearly overjoyed. Hermione watched from the side, stunned by Silas's method of "gift-giving."

More than ten minutes later, footsteps and voices came from outside the hut. Hagrid's massive body sprang out of his chair at once, his face splitting into a huge smile. "Oh! From those voices, Harry must be here!" He hurried toward the door, then paused to listen. "And another little Weasley brother! Ron, right? Ah, his twin brothers have caused me no end of trouble! Come in, come in, boys!"

The door opened, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley entered somewhat awkwardly. Harry immediately saw Silas and Hermione sitting inside and looked surprised. Silas's distinctive dark blue robes and red cloak were simply too conspicuous.

When Silas saw Harry, he nodded politely and greeted him in an even tone. "Uh... Potter, good afternoon."

Harry hurriedly replied, "Hello, Silas." His gaze was immediately drawn to the Rock Cakes on the plate, which looked impossibly hard. Perhaps he was hungry from the walk, or perhaps he was simply responding to Hagrid's warmth, but he casually picked one up and tried to take a bite.

Crack! A crisp sound rang out, like stones striking each other.

Harry's expression froze instantly. His teeth had been put through a severe test, and a flicker of pain crossed his face, but he forced himself to endure it, struggling to chew the cookie that was practically granite.

Silas watched Harry trying to swallow while suppressing his pain and couldn't help raising an eyebrow. In a somewhat incredulous tone, he asked, "Are you... all right?"

Harry's mouth was stuffed with hard-to-chew crumbs. Hearing the question and seeing Hagrid looking at him with huge, hopeful, delighted eyes, he could only force out a smile and say indistinctly, with complete sincerity—fake sincerity—"Uh... yeah! It's delicious!"

Hermione, sitting beside Silas, had witnessed the whole thing. Deeply impressed by Harry's consideration for Hagrid's feelings, she sighed in a voice barely above a breath, "Such high emotional intelligence..."

Silas heard Hermione's whisper and turned toward her. In a tone of pure curiosity and discussion, without any malice whatsoever—though it sounded extremely punchable—he asked, "Or is it just because your emotional intelligence is too low?"

Hermione choked on his sudden "attack." Her face flushed red, and she glared at him, embarrassed and annoyed. Lowering her voice, she retorted, "The fact that you can say something like that without changing expression proves your emotional intelligence is low too, all right!"

Ron Weasley watched the bizarre scene—Harry struggling to swallow the weaponized Rock Cake, Hagrid immersed in the joy of having his cooking appreciated, and the newly acquainted Ravenclaw and Gryffindor girl already holding a small debate about "emotional intelligence." He shrank back slightly and muttered to himself, "Maybe I shouldn't have come... The atmosphere here feels kind of weird..."

Hagrid did not notice any of these little incidents at all. Cheerfully, he poured "milk tea" for Harry and Ron as well and warmly urged them to sit down. The hut immediately felt even more crowded and lively. Fang excitedly weaved between everyone's legs, while the Niffler in Silas's cage began taking a keen interest in a shiny, slightly loose button on Ron's robes. This afternoon tea was destined to continue amid a chaotic yet wonderful atmosphere.

Inside the hut, everyone drank Hagrid's uniquely flavored "milk tea"—Ron cautiously took one sip and never touched it again—and the atmosphere gradually warmed up. Somehow, the conversation turned to the least popular professor: Severus Snape.

Harry frowned, his tone full of obvious grievance and confusion. "I really think Professor Snape hates me. From my very first class, he's been targeting me, finding all kinds of excuses to take points, and always looking at me like... like he wants to throw me into a cauldron."

Hagrid was wiping his pink umbrella with a large handkerchief. Hearing that, he immediately looked up and retorted in his booming voice, "Rubbish, Harry! Why would Snape hate you? He's a professor! He may be a bit gloomy, and he may speak a bit harshly, but he treats all students equally... well, probably." By the end, even Hagrid sounded slightly less certain.

Silas had been sitting quietly nearby, teasing the Niffler in its cage with his fingers to keep it from stealing Ron's button. Hearing this, he looked up at Harry, a sly smile appearing on his face. In a tone as though he were sharing a secret trick, he said:

"Potter, here's what you do. Next time he gives you trouble for no reason and glares at you like that, don't avoid him, and don't back down. Use those eyes of yours... greener than the greenest paint, and stare straight into his. Keep staring until he gets uncomfortable."

Harry froze for a moment, then asked doubtfully, "Will that... really work?" The idea sounded a little risky, perhaps even likely to make things worse.

Silas nodded hard, his tone full of certainty. "Trust me, bro." Those are Lily Evans's eyes! They're Snape's deepest obsession and pain! Stare at him with those eyes and let's see what he can use to stop you! Let's see whether he can keep that cold dead face!

Ron listened from the side. He thought Silas's idea sounded satisfying, but far too risky to actually carry out. Scratching his red hair, he finally asked a question that had been bothering him for some time.

"Silas, there's something I've been wanting to ask you," Ron said. "When you talk to us and give advice, you seem pretty easygoing, but why do you always call us by our surnames so distantly? Like 'Potter,' 'Granger,' and me, 'Weasley'? It sounds really formal."

Silas's expression did not change at the question. He merely shrugged and answered Ron's curiosity with two very simple words:

"Habit."

He did not explain further. This habit came from his deep understanding of the power of "names," born from his arcane system, as well as a certain sense of social distance he had carried over from his previous life. He felt that calling people by their surnames both maintained the necessary politeness and preserved a comfortable distance, sparing him a great deal of pointless small talk and forced familiarity.

The brief answer made Ron blink. He did not seem to understand, but he did not ask further. Hagrid, meanwhile, burst out laughing and patted Harry on the back. "Hear that, Harry? Next time, try Silas's method! Glare right back with those eyes of yours!"

Harry looked at Silas's expression, which clearly said, "Trust me, you can't go wrong," then thought of Snape's cold black eyes. He still felt uneasy, but the bold suggestion had indeed planted a seed in his heart. The conversation in the hut continued merrily amid Rock Cakes, the Niffler, and chatter about all kinds of strange stories from Hogwarts.