The Hagrid's son

Albus "Too Many Names" Dumbledore was staring at his deputy headmistress and colleague, Minerva, who had burst into his office just as he was preparing to go down to dinner.

It was the first time he had seen her kick the door open!

Before he could even greet her with his kindly grandfather smile (practiced every day for an hour in the mirror), she began warning him not to even dream of breaking the rules for young Potter, saying he would have to step over her dead body to get him on the Gryffindor Quidditch team ahead of schedule.

Albus was puzzled—wasn't it Minerva's idea in the first place?

Besides, it resulted in a development that would give young Harry some confidence, ideal for his carefully laid plans for the coming years.

Unfortunately, the deputy headmistress presented such solid arguments that even someone as adept in politics and wordplay as he was found it difficult to counter them convincingly.

He couldn't just say he would do it because he wanted to.

"Alright, Minerva, since you've thought it through so carefully, let's allow Harry to focus on his studies during the first year," Dumbledore conceded while secretly pulling a lemon drop from his sleeve to eat.

Ah, his beloved lemon drops, a great way to handle stress.

"Thank you, Albus. I'm sorry I had to trouble you with this matter beforehand," Minerva nodded, pleased at having averted a great catastrophe for Lily's son. "Good night," she said as, with a flick of her wand, she placed the door she had kicked off its hinges back as if nothing had happened.

"Well, things don't always go as we hope, do they, old friend?" Dumbledore approached his phoenix to stroke its feathers.

It didn't matter; there would always be some last-minute adjustments for these things. He was used to it and had a lot of experience in it.

The next morning, coming out of Charms class.

"I can't believe you didn't get into the team after all!" Ron was so upset about the news that he hadn't paid much attention in class.

Even less than usual, in fact.

"Professor McGonagall explained the reason, and I have to say it makes sense," despite those words, it was evident Harry had hoped to get through.

There would always be the Flying lessons.

Ron didn't know how to remind him that those lessons were only given in the first year.

Hermione heard their conversation and felt that justice had been served.

She decided to make her assignment twice as long as requested to celebrate!

While Harry was trying to drown his sorrows by mimicking Ron's eating habits, he heard about the bank robbery, or rather, the attempted robbery, since the vault that was raided turned out to be empty.

Wasn't that the vault he had visited with Hagrid?

The image of the tiny package flashed through his mind, but he shook it off and kept eating.

Barnaby frowned at the teachers' table, holding the newspaper in one hand and a fork in the other over a plate of sweet pancakes with strawberries and cream.

If Harry had the suspicion, then Barnaby was sure it was the same vault his father visited before the school year started.

On Dumbledore's orders.

Putting down The Daily Prophet on the table, he resumed his lunch while thinking about the matter.

It was evident the headmaster knew someone would attack the vault, but what could have been inside for someone to risk such a heist?

He had seen the small package in his father's hand for just a moment before he hurried off to deliver it to Dumbledore that day, so he hadn't had a good look at it, just that it was something small. And quite magical, from what he sensed.

"No matter, it's Dumbledore's problem," he thought while savoring the sweetness in his mouth. "Later, I'll sneak out to take Fluffy for another walk."

Since he had the most free time in the castle, he had taken on the task of looking after the young Cerberus. He fed him, cleaned him, took him for walks, and played with him.

All in secret from the others.

And it wasn't as if he left the trapdoor unattended; he left someone to watch over it during his occasional outings.

Fluffy didn't deserve to be locked in such a small room all year!

Poor thing could only look at the cobwebs bored, scratch himself, and sleep.

What he didn't expect was that a few days later, when he returned Fluffy to that place to rest and was walking back through the dark corridors, he would run into four students running in the middle of the night, breaking curfew.

"Harry?" Barnaby recognized one of the four fugitives, giving them a big scare when they heard his voice and turned around.

"By Morgana's tits!" exclaimed Ron, clutching his heart. "Don't do that!"

"That hair… You must be the youngest Weasley brother, Ron, right?" Barnaby deduced.

"You know me?" Ron was puzzled.

"Your brother Percy mentioned you and your sister Ginny more than once," Barnaby nodded. "And your brothers Fred and George leave a lasting impression on anyone, though they sometimes go overboard with their pranks," he explained with a more annoyed tone.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. It seemed the twins had a history with Barnaby, but now wasn't the time to delve into it.

"How's your arm, Neville?" Barnaby asked as he approached them. "Do you feel any discomfort?"

"No, I'm much better, thanks for the potion," Neville stammered a bit. When he noticed the other three looking at him, he explained, "We met in the infirmary; he was the one who made the potion to heal me."

The potion even had a sweet rhubarb aftertaste, instead of the usual bad taste.

"It seems I know almost everyone, and you all know me, so would you like to introduce yourself?" Barnaby turned his gaze to the only female presence in the group.

He remembered her; she was the same girl who demanded answers in Aunt Minerva's first class of the year, but he didn't know her name.

She hadn't made a good first impression.

"Hermione Granger," knowing she couldn't just walk away, she gritted her teeth and introduced herself, still upset about the last time they spoke.

"Curious, I had the impression that most of you are rule-abiding people, so why are you out of your common room at night?"

Ron suspected that with the twins' behavior, Barnaby might believe he was like them. He had no proof, but from the look Barnaby gave him while speaking, he was quite sure.

Hermione quickly jumped to defend their situation, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"I see," Barnaby rubbed his chin with his hand. "You don't have to worry about what you saw; I think you should be more concerned about the scolding you'll receive from Aunt Minerva when she finds out about this."

"Are you going to rat us out?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Rat you out?" Barnaby looked at him, puzzled. "Haven't you realized?"

Question marks materialized over the kids' heads.

"Uh… guys?" Neville's trembling voice behind them made them turn their heads, their eyes widening.

Barnaby sighed, a bit amused at their reaction when they finally realized they were surrounded by a group of tomberis.

In fact, he was quite impressed they had managed to avoid them until now!

Ah, Aunt Minerva will be furious about having to deduct points from her own house.

Again.