"Haha, it's been nearly ten years since a Slytherin visited my hut." Hagrid looked a little surprised at Tris's robes, but showed no sign of dislike as he laughed heartily.
"Don't remind me. I don't even know how I'm going to explain it to Mum." Tris spread his hands like a little bear. "My family hasn't had a student in any house but Gryffindor for at least two hundred years."
"Don't say that. Slytherin isn't as bad as you think." As Hagrid spoke, he ushered them into seats and made them tea.
Tris rather liked Hagrid. Simple-minded people were easier to get along with, especially when you wanted to coax information out of them.
Harry and the others had wheedled quite a lot of information out of Hagrid.
Tris didn't need to do that. Having only watched the films, his knowledge of the plot wasn't comprehensive, but he knew the broad outlines. At the very least, he didn't need to get information from Hagrid.
For instance, he knew that the Philosopher's Stone was hidden in the school this year, that Voldemort was on the back of Quirrell's head, and that Dumbledore was watching almost all of Harry's little escapades from beginning to end.
To him, the supposed defenses protecting the Philosopher's Stone were practically a proper final exam for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Even their difficulty had been tailored to the trio's abilities.
Otherwise, even with his limited knowledge of potions and herbology, Tris knew there were far too many magical plants more formidable than Devil's Snare. And while casting Transfiguration on a chessboard was impressive, it had more style than practical substance.
If protection was the only goal, Tris thought Professor McGonagall could easily have done something much cleverer.
As for flying to catch a key, the idea seemed borrowed from Flying Class, while Professor Flitwick had most likely cast the spells. But Tris simply couldn't believe that this obstacle hadn't been custom-made for Harry.
Otherwise, what was the point of leaving a broom beside it?
Common as this sort of thing was, deliberately leaving the tool needed to bypass a defense right beside the valuable object's security measures was rather hard to take seriously.
While Tris let his thoughts wander, Harry and Ron eagerly told Hagrid about the interesting things that had happened at school that week.
"Oh, right." Harry seemed to remember something suddenly. "Why do I get the feeling Professor Snape, our Potions Class teacher, doesn't really like me?"
"We can't expect everyone to like us, can we?" Hagrid spread his hands, then thought for a moment and added, "Though, with Snape, he really doesn't much like Gryffindors."
"I feel like he especially dislikes me," Harry stressed again.
Several times during Potions Class that day, Harry had felt something odd about the way Snape looked at him. Besides, Snape had deducted points from only three students, and he was one of them.
Harry thought he had done a little better than Ron, never mind Seamus, whose performance in class had been explosive-literally.
"Well..." Hagrid smacked his lips, hesitating.
Of course he knew why Snape disliked Harry. When James, Sirius, and the others had been feuding with Snape, he had already been the school's Keeper of Keys for quite some time.
James and Sirius had also been on good terms with him, so naturally he knew something about what had happened back then.
He even knew about the time Sirius had tricked Snape and nearly gotten him killed, only for James to save him. He just wasn't sure whether it was his place to tell that story.
Fortunately, Ron changed the subject and brought up his second-oldest brother, Charlie.
Hagrid knew that Charlie had gone to a Dragon Sanctuary in France to study dragons, and he expressed his envy very openly.
"I'd like to go to a Dragon Sanctuary too. Unfortunately, their assessment standards are too strict. There's no way I could pass," Hagrid said regretfully.
"Charlie didn't actually pass either," Ron muttered, but left the rest unsaid.
Hagrid didn't notice and kept talking enthusiastically about his love of dragons.
Hagrid had never concealed his fondness for dragons. Everyone knew about it; otherwise, Quirrell wouldn't have been able to exploit it so easily later.
What Tris was curious about, though, was where Quirrell had gotten the dragon egg.
It hadn't struck him while watching the film, but after coming to the wizarding world, he had learned a little about its dragons before his second-oldest brother Charlie left for the Dragon Sanctuary.
Almost all wild dragons were monitored by the various countries' Ministries of Magic or by certain old-established families-this was, in fact, one of the Ministry of Magic's major reasons for existing.
And every Dragon Sanctuary was kept hidden, making it difficult to get inside.
Tris didn't doubt that Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, could get close to a Dragon Sanctuary or a wild dragon. But stealing an egg without either the dragons or the wizards watching them noticing anything was far from simple.
Besides, Hagrid going out drinking, getting drunk, and gambling on cards wasn't something that happened on a predictable schedule.
Especially since, as the school's gamekeeper rather than a professor, he usually went out at different times from the teachers.
Professors could go out too, but they couldn't let it interfere with their lessons, so most chose weekends. Professor McGonagall, for instance, usually stayed at school on weekends, waiting for young wizards to come to her with questions and helping clear up their confusion.
But she occasionally went out to attend forums or give lectures-after all, she was a leading figure in contemporary Transfiguration research.
Hagrid, on the other hand, actually had to keep a closer watch over the grounds on weekends to stop young wizards with nothing to do from wandering everywhere. When he needed to go out on errands, he usually did so during the week.
For Quirrell to run into him, even the timing posed a problem.
Who knew how he had managed it?
Tris silently puzzled over it.
"Huh?" Beside him, Harry suddenly made a small sound of surprise, then pulled a slip of paper out from under the tea cozy-a clipping from the Daily Prophet.
The headline read, "Latest report on the Gringotts break-in."
"Someone broke into Gringotts?" Harry looked astonished as he read the newspaper. He remembered Hagrid saying, when he first took him there, that Gringotts was the safest place in the world after Hogwarts.
"That happened a month ago," Tris said casually. "Come to think of it, it was the day we met in Diagon Alley. That evening, I think. Someone broke in while the goblins were changing shifts. There were loads of reports about it in the papers..."
He glanced at the clipping in Harry's hand. "This one should be from late August. The Ministry of Magic and Gringotts spent ages investigating and didn't find a damn thing."
"Huh? You both knew?" Harry looked at Ron.
"I knew a bit, but I didn't pay much attention." Ron shrugged. "Tris is the only one in our family who reads everything in the newspaper. I just read the serialized stories and stuff.
"Weren't you staying at our house then too? You were reading those novels at the time, though, so you probably didn't notice. Speaking of which, the Ministry of Magic really is full of useless idiots."
Ron was completely oblivious to the fact that his remark included his own dad.
Harry remembered now.
After they returned from Diagon Alley, Arthur had first taken him back to Privet Drive to collect his luggage and everyday necessities. He had also removed Dudley's pig's tail, despite Harry's reluctance.
Then they had gone to the Burrow.
Harry was absolutely certain that his month at the Burrow had been the happiest month he could remember. Even coming to Hogwarts hadn't changed his mind.
Hogwarts was magical too, and he liked it very much, but there were still quite a few things here that he disliked.
Filch and his cat, for instance. The piles of homework. Draco Malfoy. And Snape, whom he had only started disliking today.
By comparison, there was almost nothing at the Burrow he disliked.
Even Percy, whom Ron and the twins disliked so much, seemed quite nice to Harry. He could even offer advice about school, though Harry hadn't really followed much of it.
And during his first few days at the Burrow, he really had spent all his time reading, mostly focusing on a few magical adventure novels.
Harry still remembered the author-it was hard not to, since his photograph was on the covers. He was a very handsome wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart.
Harry rather admired this remarkable, adventurous wizard and had told his friends about him.
He just didn't understand why Tris always gave him such a strange look whenever he said so.
"Hagrid, do you know what happened?" Harry asked Hagrid curiously.
To Harry's surprise, Hagrid's gaze became evasive. He even turned his head to avoid Harry's eyes and began making awkward attempts to change the subject.
Something's wrong!
Harry's clever little brain, which he rarely applied to his studies, immediately spotted the problem.
After they left Hagrid's hut, Harry opened his mouth several times on the way back to the castle, but never said anything.
His hesitation was so obvious that not only Tris, who had been secretly keeping an eye on him, but even the oblivious Ron noticed something was wrong.
"Harry, is there something you want to tell us?" If Tris spoke directly because he didn't waste energy agonizing over things, Ron simply didn't think things through at all. Ninety-nine percent of the time, his mouth raced ahead while his brain chased after it.
This was no exception.
Harry had wanted to speak all along. Now that Ron had asked, how could he possibly hold it in?
Back at Gringotts, when Hagrid had told him they were collecting something Harry knew nothing about, except that it had to do with Dumbledore, he had made Harry promise not to tell anyone else.
But Ron and Tris are my best friends. Surely, possibly, maybe they don't count as anyone else?
With that thought, Harry gave himself another layer of emotional reassurance.
He looked earnestly at Ron and Tris. "Ron, Tris, we're good friends, right?"
"Of course!" Ron answered immediately.
"I should think so. I think we get along pretty well." Tris smiled too. He had already guessed that Harry probably wanted to talk about the Philosopher's Stone, though Harry didn't yet know that was what it was.
Hearing their replies, Harry seemed to set aside his hesitation. He lowered his voice. "I might know a little-really, just a little-about the robbery at Gringotts."
"The break-in!" corrected Ron, who had skimmed the article. "Gringotts denies that anything was stolen. Whatever it was had already been removed earlier."
"Right, the break-in." Harry didn't mind Ron's correction and went along with it. "What I mean is... I suspect, and it's only a suspicion..."
His voice dropped further, so low that even Ron and Tris, huddled close to him, could barely hear.
"I suspect that what the intruder wanted was the thing Hagrid and I collected from Gringotts earlier. Hagrid said Dumbledore had sent him to get it! And there was only that one thing in that little vault."
"What was it?" Ron asked excitedly.
"I don't know." Harry spread his hands, giving an answer that left Ron deeply disappointed.