Hagrid's Giant Heritage

The silver frost on the surrounding walls reflected the bright light, and the Weird Sisters band was playing a soothing tune. The Witch in the arena danced with smiles on their faces, making sure their steps were correct while also keeping an eye on their partners.

Seamus, Dean, and the Patil sisters had just finished dancing and were sitting around a round table resting and chatting.

"We could have spun a little faster just now, making your skirt flutter. That would have been beautiful, don't you think, Padma?"

Dean was speaking sincerely when he suddenly felt someone push his shoulder. He turned around impatiently and asked, "What?"

Seamus rubbed his eyes hard, his face filled with disbelief. "I must be drunk, Dean. Can you check if I'm hallucinating?"

"You can get drunk even from Pumpkin Juice..." Dean saw the group on the dance floor, the rest of his words stuck in his throat, and his expression gradually became blank.

Swaying slowly to the melody, Phoebe watched as the red-haired boy's eyes darted around. Occasionally, when his gaze met hers, he looked like a startled rabbit, his flustered and shy demeanor somewhat comical.

She couldn't help but laugh and said, "Ron, may I call you that?"

Ron nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, of course."

Phoebe spoke slowly and deliberately, "Thank you for taking care of Gabrielle these past few days. You've been a great help."

"You're welcome," Ron said with a silly grin. "It was Loren's idea at first, but Ginny and Luna were the ones who kept Gabrielle company."

His head was spinning. He had imagined countless times what it would be like to be the center of attention, standing next to the prettiest girl...

But when the moment actually arrived, apart from the gazes of a few close friends like Simon, which made him feel comfortable, the stares of others were not pleasant; on the contrary, they felt like thorns in his back.

But Phoebe is really beautiful!

Ron's heart was pounding.

Phoebe smiled and casually changed the subject, talking about the mischievous staircases, the overly greasy food in Hogwarts Kitchens, and the cold weather here...

"Yes, that's right, I think so too!" Ron grinned foolishly.

As the song drew to a close, Phoebe's beautiful eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she sighed dejectedly, "... It's all my fault for spending too much time on the Golden Egg. I have no clue what to do, and I can't even stay by Gabrielle's side. The other Champion have probably left me far behind."

"It's alright, Harry's got no clue either, he's just busy playing..." Ron's reassurance paused for a moment, then he belatedly realized something, and his smile slowly faded.

When the music ended, the two returned to their respective positions.

Harry casually handed him a Butterbeer, jokingly asking, "How does it feel to have the famous Phoebe Delacour as your dance partner?"

Ron paused for a moment. "Miss Delacour is fine, but she's not having an easy time."

"You boys like this kind of thing, don't you?" Lavender said sourly.

"Yeah, who doesn't like pretty girls?"

Ron downed a whole glass of Butterbeer in one gulp, burped, and grinned. "But I know perfectly well she doesn't like me. Let's go, let's go dance some more."

Lavender paused for a moment, then his eyes slowly began to light up.

At the end of the courtyard path.

The area outside the Castle was covered in snow and ice.

Neither the rose garden nor the glowing fairies are cold-resistant, Professor McGonagall put a lot of effort into decorating the Castle, so the courtyard is not cold.

Loren and Hermione's lips were already a little swollen and their tongues were a bit numb. They were both very self-disciplined people, so they stopped their addictive activity.

Hermione looked up at the face so close to hers, feeling puzzled. She was taller last year, so how could it have changed in just one year?

Loren was a little afraid to look at her; her eyes were like stars, and if he looked any longer, he would have to go to Madam Pomfrey to have his tongue checked.

He tightened his arms around her waist, feeling her slender, soft, and warm skin through her smooth silk dress. He lowered his head slightly, buried his nose in her shoulder and neck, and took a deep breath.

"Hmm~"

Hermione let out a soft groan, the last syllable of her voice trembling.

Loren rubbed his nose against Hermione's. "Hermione, are you cold?"

"It's not cold."

"It's snowing!"

Loren squeezed the little Witch's hand, then touched her arm; it was icy cold. Strange, why was her mouth so hard? It had been so soft just now.

"Is this what you mean by not being cold?"

"It's really not cold," Hermione said weakly, her face serious.

"Even though it's not cold, we went back to the Great Hall."

"Oh..."

After several hours of close contact on the Great Hall dance floor, many couples couldn't contain their excitement and went elsewhere.

The rose garden in the courtyard still shimmers with Fairy Lights, sparkling and dazzling. Ornate stone carvings divide the winding paths into small, private spaces, and the gurgling sound of the Magic Fountain is enough to drown out whispered sweet nothings.

I have to admit, this is a great place for a date.

Loren and Hermione tiptoed along the courtyard path, avoiding rustling flowerbeds and bushes, and the stone statues that seemed to emit low groans, slowly making their way toward the Great Hall.

On the unavoidable path, Loren spotted several familiar figures: some Ravenclaw, some Hufflepuff, but no Gryffindor.

As we passed a huge reindeer sculpture, a rough yet familiar voice came from behind. "I knew it the moment I saw you."

"!!"

The Gryffindor have appeared.

Loren and Hermione exchanged a glance, confirming that there was no other way to go, and the two tacitly hid in the bushes nearby.

"What do you understand, Hagrid?" Madam Maxime asked in a low voice.

"I understand now. Are you like me, your father or your mother?"

Madam Maxime said, "I don't understand what you mean, Hagrid."

"My mother was one of the few remaining in England. Of course, I don't remember her very well anymore... She left when I was three years old. Alas, motherhood isn't in their nature, is it?"

"I don't know what happened to her after that, she's probably dead." Hagrid gazed at the silver fountain. "My dad raised me. He was a little guy, and when I was six I could lift him up and put him on top of the closet, but he never got angry, he always laughed it off..."

"But he died while I was in school..." Hagrid blew his nose heavily. "That's my story. What about you? Where did you get your genes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Madam Maxime said coldly. "It's too cold, I want to go inside."

"Huh? Of course it's Half-Giant, is there even a question?"

"How dare you!" Madam Maxime shrieked. "I've never been insulted like this in my life! Half-Giant? Me? I'm just big-boned!"

The sound shattered the tranquil night sky. Madam Maxime stormed off, angrily parting the flowers along the way, startling groups of colorful Fairy into the air and pairs of male and female dance partners into scattering and fleeing.

Hagrid sat on the bench, silently watching her retreating figure.

A few minutes later, he stood up and strode away, not returning to the Castle, but heading towards the Forbidden Forest Lodge.

The Yule Ball ended after midnight. After dancing for several hours, the young wizards were both excited and sleepy. Some wanted to hold a second half in the Common Room, but most of the young wizards didn't have the energy.

At the bottom of the lounge stairs, Loren held Hermione's hand, his eyes glued to her. This little Witch possessed a unique allure, more captivating than in her elaborate gowns; he could never get enough of looking at her.

"It's time to say goodnight, Loren..."

Hermione blinked, her curled eyelashes tinged red by the firelight, her delicate face radiating softness. The effects of the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion hadn't worn off yet; her hair had already come down from its bun, her long brown hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, and Loren's coat draped over her dress.

"Oh, goodnight."

"Remember to tell Harry and Ron about Hagrid."

"Oh."

Hermione felt his gaze was burning hot, and if she continued talking, she wouldn't be able to leave. She quickly waved goodbye to Loren and hurriedly returned to her dormitory to change clothes, wash up, and remove the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and lipstick from her lips.

Oh, it seems the lipstick can't be washed off...

She poked her slightly swollen lips in front of the mirror, couldn't help but purse them, and then, as if thinking of something, her cheeks started to burn again.

"Now we're officially together, right? I should write a letter to my mom..."

Hermione pursed her lips and returned to her dorm room, trying to avoid her roommates' scrutinizing gazes. Silently, she took out Muggle stationery and a ballpoint pen and lay down on her desk.

The chatter of Parvati and Lavender filled her ears; she was sleepy but reluctant to fall asleep. She squinted, grumbling about Phoebe Delacour's affected manner, but not all men were fooled by her act, like her little Ronnie ...

Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory, Loren also washed up, changed his clothes, and crawled into bed.

I don't know what's going on. It's the middle of winter, and it's snowing outside, but the temperature in the dorm is inexplicably high. The blankets are so hot they feel like an oven, even though they were perfectly comfortable last night.

After tossing and turning for most of the night to let the heat dissipate, Loren lay on the four-poster bed, looking up at the black curtains, a silly smile unconsciously creeping onto his lips.

By the way, what did Hermione ask him to do again?

On the second day of Christmas, everyone got up late.

The Gryffindor Common Room was much quieter than it had been a few days ago, with people chatting idly and occasionally being interrupted by yawns.

Hermione's hair was a mess again. She confessed that she had sprayed a lot of smoothing spray on her hair to prepare for the Yule Ball, but doing it every day was too much trouble.

At the round table by the window, Hermione scratched Crookshanks ' ear, ate the cashew nut that was offered to her mouth, and squinted her eyes in satisfaction.

"Harry, you mean Cedric gave you a clue about the Golden Egg at the Great Hall entrance?"

"Oh yes, he said it was to repay the favor of telling him about the dragon." Harry nodded seriously. "When the Yule Ball ended, he made sure Ron left first, and then told me to take the Golden Egg and take a bath, and to ponder it carefully in the hot water."

Is this some kind of word puzzle?

"No, it's just a shower. It's in the Prefect's washroom on the sixth floor. He specifically told me that the entrance is the fourth door to the left of the Nearly Headless Nick statue, and the password is 'Fresh Pineapple '."

Loren glanced at Harry, thinking that he wouldn't need Harry's help anymore.

"The Prefect's washroom..."

Upon hearing this, Hermione was reminded of a ghost friend and fell into a deep silence.

"Hmm..." Crookshanks nudged her stopped hand with dissatisfaction.

"This advice is absolutely bizarre. I find it strange too. How can taking a shower help me figure out what that screaming Golden Egg means? I even think he might be playing a trick on me..."

Harry couldn't understand the connection between the Golden Egg and bathing, his expression full of confusion. He turned to Loren, "By the way, Loren, I remember you also have a clue about the Golden Egg. What's your suggestion?"

"My advice is to protect your privacy." Loren fed the girl another cashew.

"Huh?" Harry looked bewildered.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, her lips touched Loren's fingers, and her cheeks flushed slightly.

In the center of the lounge, Ron explained his and Phoebe's dance six or seven times to make sure George and Fred understood every detail before returning to the small round table by the window, satisfied.

Even though the other party's intentions were impure, they still had to show off in front of the Twins.

Ron sat down next to Harry, took a big gulp of Pumpkin Juice, and let out a satisfied sigh, "What are you guys talking about?"

"We were talking about Harry's Golden Egg, but we'll have to wait until Harry finishes his bath before we can continue." Loren fed the little Witch the last cashew and took her hand under the table. "I wanted to talk about Hagrid."

Ron scratched his head. "Hagrid, what's wrong with him?"

"As we passed through the courtyard, we encountered Madam Maxime and Hagrid..."

Hermione wiped her mouth and began to recount what they had overheard in the courtyard.

Hagrid's Half-Giant origins... Hagrid inquires about Maxime's past... The two eventually part ways on bad terms.

"Hagrid, the Half-Giant ... oh, I always thought he was accidentally hit by some kind of evil Engorgement Charm when he was a child," Ron said. "No wonder Maxime looked so grim when he returned to the Yule Ball, even more so than Snape."

"What's wrong with giants?" Harry said indignantly, standing up for Hagrid. "I don't know Maxime is trying to fool. If Hagrid is Half-Giant, then she must be too. She has a big frame; the only ones with a bigger frame than her are dinosaurs."

"In fact, Harry, there's something wrong with giants. Someone like Maxime shouldn't be associated with giants." Ron glanced around and lowered his voice. "Giants are very vicious. They're born to kill and they'll kill each other. There are no giants left in England now."

Where did they go?

"Who knows? They probably went extinct slowly. There are probably still some left in other countries, mostly hiding in the Deep Mountain..."

"It's mentioned in Britain: The Evolution of Humanoids," Hermione recounted. "During the Wizarding Wars, the dozen or so giants remaining in England joined Voldemort's ranks. During Voldemort's reign of terror, they committed some of the most brutal massacres of Muggle before being killed by Aurors during the war... This led to the idea that giants were cruel and bloodthirsty."

"But Hagrid isn't like that!"

"Our opinions don't matter, but Maxime does," Loren shrugged.

Harry stared blankly for a few seconds before snapping out of it. "Then, let's go see Hagrid..."