Mon Cher (Severus Snape Daughter FF)

Ch. 11 // COS

Clara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During their first year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his little wooden house, and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, threeheaded dog he'd christened “Fluffy.” And if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, Clara was sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped up so long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs. But she was equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anybody.

"I wish we hadn't found out how to work Riddle's diary," Harry told Clara one day during Quidditch practice. "Now we have to confront Hagrid."

"I wish Ron and Hermione would stop making us recall everything." Clara grumbled.

Harry was also heartily sick of telling them and sick of the long, circular conversations that followed.
“Riddle might have got the wrong person,” said Hermione. “Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people…”

“How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?” Ron asked dully.

"Apparently, a lot." Clara crossed her arms.

“We always knew Hagrid had been expelled,” said Harry miserably. “And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award.”

Ron tried a different tack. “Riddle does sound like Percy — who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?”

“But the monster had killed someone, Ron,” said Hermione.

“And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts,” said Clara.

“I don't blame him for wanting to stay here…” Harry added.

“You two met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you?”

“He was buying a Flesh Eating Slug Repellent,” said Harry quickly.

The four of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice. “Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?”

“That'd be a cheerful visit,” said Ron. “'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately? '”

In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled.

***It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his “Oh, Potter, you rotter. Oh, Snape, you snake” song, Ernie Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.
“The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature,” she said. “Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing.”

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously. “It could affect our whole future,” she told Clara, Harry, and Ron as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.