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Alright then.
Anyway, there was no escaping it, so Lynn raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Knock. Knock, knock.
"Hagrid, it's me, Lynn. I came to freeload a meal."
Silence fell for two seconds inside the house.
Then came rustling sounds, as if someone were frantically tidying something up. This was followed by heavy footsteps growing closer.
Creak—
The door was pulled open.
Hagrid's massive figure appeared in the doorway, completely filling the entire frame.
His face was a bit red—not from the cold, but from the embarrassment of being caught. His hair was messier than usual, his clothes were wrinkled, and beads of sweat hung on his forehead.
Most striking were his feet—
He was wearing a pair of obviously ill-fitting large leather shoes, their soles stained with white ash from who knew where.
"L-Lynn!" Hagrid's voice stammered. "W-why are you here? You didn't even say anything beforehand!"
Lynn's gaze moved from Hagrid's face, to his feet, and then back to his face.
"Came to freeload a meal," he said. "And to check on the Abraxans. Is it inconvenient?"
"Convenient! Very convenient!" Hagrid quickly said, stepping aside from the doorway. "Come in quickly! It's cold outside!"
Lynn stepped into the cabin.
It was messier than he had imagined. The table had been pushed against the wall, chairs were toppled over, and there were several crooked footprints on the floor—exactly the kind made by those big leather shoes.
In the corner, an old gramophone was still slowly turning, the needle pressing against the record and emitting a faint hiss.
Lynn's gaze swept over everything before settling on Hagrid.
Hagrid was clumsily trying to right the chairs, but in his haste, he knocked another one over.
"Uh... that..." he stammered. "I was just... cleaning! Yes, cleaning!"
Lynn didn't speak.
He just looked at Hagrid, his expression clearly saying: You think I believe that?
Hagrid's face grew even redder.
"Hagrid, are you... practicing dancing?"
Hagrid's movements froze.
He stood there like a petrified statue, his face beet red.
"N-no!" he quickly denied. "How could I—how could I possibly—I was just—it's just—that—"
The more he spoke, the more muddled he became, finally giving up and shutting up altogether.
Lynn walked over to a relatively intact chair and sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest.
"Hagrid," he said, "are you trying to invite Madam Maxime to the Yule Ball?"
Hagrid's eyes widened.
"H-how did you—"
"A guess," Lynn said. "At the last feast, the way you looked at her was like Fang looking at a bone."
Hagrid: "..."
He thought to himself: Was it that obvious?
Lynn couldn't help but laugh out loud at Hagrid's expression.
He casually glanced around the cabin.
"By the way, Hagrid," he suddenly remembered, "where are your Blast-Ended Skrewts? Why haven't I seen them this time?"
Hagrid scratched his head.
"Uh... that..." he stammered. "Madam Maxime came to see the Abraxans here a few days ago, and she... she also came inside to sit for a bit."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"And then?"
"Then she saw those Blast-Ended Skrewts." Hagrid's face flushed again. "She... she didn't seem to like them very much. She said they were too ugly, scary to look at, and they kept spitting fire. It would be troublesome if they burned her Abraxans."
Lynn: "..."
Hagrid continued.
"I thought about it and realized she had a point. Those Blast-Ended Skrewts really aren't suitable to be kept near the cabin. So... I released them into the Forbidden Forest."
Lynn's eyes widened.
Released?
Blast-Ended Skrewts?
Forbidden Forest?
These three words together sounded like the prelude to some kind of disaster.
"Hagrid," Lynn's voice was a little shaky, "how many did you release?"
"Uh... about forty or fifty."
Lynn fell silent.
He began to mourn silently for the creatures of the Forbidden Forest.
Blast-Ended Skrewts reproduce quickly, have huge appetites, eat anything, and breathe fire. With forty or fifty of them released together, it wouldn't be long before an entirely new ecosystem emerged in the Forbidden Forest.
But soon, his eyes darted about, and he thought of something else.
He looked up at Hagrid, a meaningful smile on his face.
"Hagrid," he said, "let me show you something."
Hagrid was stunned for a moment.
"What thing?"
Lynn didn't answer.
He drew his wand and pointed it at his temple.
Hagrid's eyes became confused. He had seen this action before—Lynn had done it during the first task when he pulled a large mass of silvery-white substance from his head and turned it into a map.
But this time, what floated out of Lynn's temple wasn't a map.
It was a scene.
In the scene, Hagrid's expression was utterly disdainful.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Madam Maxime my foot..."
"Stop, stop, stop!" Hagrid suddenly shouted. "Lynn, what do you want to eat? I'll make it. Anything! I'll go right now!"
Lynn smiled and withdrew his wand.
He twirled the wand in his hand before tucking it back into his pocket.
"Just make something simple," he said, his tone as relaxed as if nothing had happened. "I'm not picky."
Hagrid glared at him.
His gaze was full of you're just trying to stir up trouble.
Lynn pretended not to see.
He leaned back in the chair, crossed his legs, and watched Hagrid clumsily rush toward the kitchen area—which was essentially the large stove in the corner of the cabin.
Fang came over, rubbed against Lynn's leg, and let out an ingratiating whimper.
Lynn reached out and stroked the dog's head.
So much fun.jpg
...
After lunch, Lynn stayed in the cabin for a while longer, chatting with Hagrid about the ball and giving him some encouragement.
"Just go ahead and invite her openly," Lynn said, patting Hagrid's arm. "At most, she'll refuse. It's not like you'll lose a limb."
Hagrid's expression was still conflicted, but much better than before. He scratched his head and mumbled, "I... I'll think about it... think about it..."
Seeing him like this, Lynn knew it was useless to say more, so he got up to leave.
"Alright, I'm going to check on the Abraxans. You practice your dancing well and try not to keep bumping into tables."
Hagrid's face turned red again.
Lynn smiled as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the crisp, cold air.
Sunlight spilled onto the snow, reflecting a dazzling white glow. He crunched through the accumulated snow, walking toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Then he saw the stable.
Lynn's steps halted.
He stood there, looking at the building before him, silent for a moment.
How to put it...
Hagrid's stable was simply too... luxurious.
It wasn't an ordinary stable at all. It was a wooden structure more than three times the size of Hagrid's cabin. The roof was thickly thatched, the walls were built from whole logs, and the gaps were filled with some kind of soft material.
Lynn approached for a closer look and discovered that the filling was actually hair from various magical creatures.
Unicorn tail hair, Thestral mane, and even a few tufts clearly pulled from Beauxbatons' Abraxans.
Lynn: "..."
He mused that Abraxans didn't seem to be afraid of the cold.
Lynn pushed open the stable door and walked in.
It was warmer inside than he had expected. The air was filled with the aroma of malt and the fresh scent of hay, along with a faint smell of alcohol.
The Abraxans all had their heads buried in the trough, guzzling something down.
Lynn leaned in for a look.
Pure Malt Whiskey.
And it was supplied without limit. Several large wooden barrels were placed beside the trough, with labels on their sides reading:
"Hagrid's Special Brew - Pure Malt Whiskey."
Next to them were piles of hay—not ordinary dry grass, but special feed made from a mixture of various herbs, emitting a complex aroma.
Lynn watched this scene in silence.
Twenty-four-hour unlimited supplies of Pure Malt Whiskey.
Special feed made from various precious herbs.
A luxurious stable with walls insulated using magical creature hair.
He suddenly felt particularly guilty toward Lumière.
"Ahem!"
Lynn cleared his throat.
Not a single Abraxan looked up.
They continued to bury their heads in the trough and guzzle away without even lifting an eyelid.
Lynn: "..."
Fine.
He pulled a bottle from his pocket and uncorked it.
A rich, mellow scent of alcohol instantly filled the air.
It was from his private stash he'd dug out of his trunk.
The Abraxans' movements froze in unison.
They lifted their heads, their noses twitching, eyes fixed intently on the bottle in Lynn's hand.
Lynn smiled and shook the bottle.
"Come on, come on," he said. "A sip for everyone, and remember to give me some hair afterward."
The Abraxans instantly crowded around.
They clustered around Lynn, jostling to get close to the bottle, their eyes frighteningly bright.
The lead horse was the first to approach, cautiously taking a small sip—
Then its eyes widened.
Seeing its reaction, the other Abraxans became even more impatient. They pushed and shoved, all wanting to snatch a sip.
Lynn smiled, controlling the pace, giving each horse a small sip and patting their necks afterward.
"Come on, come on, don't rush. There's enough for everyone."
Those who had finished drinking voluntarily offered their tails.
Lynn skillfully plucked a small tuft of tail hair and put it into his personal bag.
"Good horse, good horse. Next one—"
For a while, the stable was filled with drinking sounds, satisfied snorts, and the rustling sounds of Lynn collecting materials.
Lynn's smile grew wider and wider, his eyes practically disappearing into his grin.
One after another, after a full round, his bag was already noticeably bulging.
He stroked the mane of the last mare, feeling greatly pleased, when he suddenly remembered something important.
"By the way," he asked the mare, "do you have a boyfriend?"
The mare, immersed in the afterglow of the fine wine, abruptly froze at the question.
She slowly turned her head to look at Lynn.
Her expression seemed to be—horror.
Lynn was stunned for a moment, then realized something was wrong.
"No, no, no!" he quickly waved his hands. "I didn't mean it that way! I mean, I also have an Abraxan! Mine! A male!"
Lynn fumbled in his pocket for his Magic Phone and opened his photo album.
"Look, look," he held the screen up to the mare's eyes, "this is mine. His name is Lumière. How about it? Not bad, right?"
In the photo, Lumière was sprawled on the grass, belly up, with several empty wine bottles scattered nearby. His expression was satisfied and hazy, clearly drunk.
The mare stared at the photo in silence.
Lynn also fell silent.
Damn it.
Why did it have to be this picture?
He hurriedly swiped to the next one—
"Lynn? What are you doing?"