Harry Potter and the HQL - Chapter - 17

The Gryffindor common room was still dark when Harry, Neville, Fred, and George stirred from their beds.

Most of the tower remained quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the gentle flicker of embers still glowing in the hearth. But for these four, this hour had long become a sacred routine.

By the time the first rays of dawn kissed the castle walls, they were already in the Training Courtyard—a hidden nook near the castle’s outer wall, known only to a few students and rarely visited this early in the morning.

It was their space, claimed in their first year and owned by habit and discipline.

Fred and George were already circling each other in the center of the courtyard, wands drawn, grins wide. Sparks flew as they fired non-lethal hexes and shield spells, dancing around each other with the ease of seasoned duelists.

“Expelliarmus!” Fred shouted, narrowly missing George, who rolled aside and returned with a precise Petrificus Totalus.

“You’re losing your edge, Freddie,” George teased as Fred threw up a shimmering shield just in time.

“Never,” Fred grinned. “I’m just letting you feel confident.”

Meanwhile, Neville stood near one of the stone pillars, wand raised, muttering to himself as he practiced deflection charms on conjured stones that zipped toward him at unpredictable angles.

“Protego! Protego! Prote—ouch!”

A pebble bounced off his shoulder, and he grumbled, rubbing the spot.

“Still getting better,” Neville muttered.

But Harry—Harry wasn’t sparring today.

He stood apart from the others, facing east, the rising sun casting gold across his features. His eyes were closed. His wand was in hand.

He had one goal.

“Expecto Patronum.”

Nothing.

A flicker of light from the wand’s tip, then darkness again.

Fred noticed, dodged a hex from George, and jogged over.

“Don’t worry about the spark,” he said. “Focus on the memory. It’s all in the memory.”

“And don’t try to force the light,” George added, walking over too. “Just let the magic come through the memory.”

Harry nodded slowly.

“That’s the problem,” he admitted. “I don’t know which memory to choose.”

He glanced down at his wand.

“I’ve got… a few,” he said. “Some powerful, some peaceful. But none of them feel right when I cast the spell.”

Fred gave a thoughtful hum.

“What about the moment you first flew?”

George added, “Or the time we took down that swarm of pixies with water balloons?”

Harry gave a small laugh. “That was mostly your doing.”

“Still counts if it made you happy,” Fred said.

Harry took a breath. Then another.

This time, he thought of something different—not glory, not battle. He thought of that first time visiting Runestone Castle, sitting by the lake, surrounded by magical creatures, the wind in his hair, free and safe for once in his life.

“Expecto Patronum.”

A silver mist sparkled faintly at the wand’s tip.

It didn’t last.

But it was there.

Harry exhaled sharply, eyes wide.

Neville turned from his spellwork.

“Did you… was that light?”

“He’s getting closer,” Fred said, clapping Harry on the back.

“Give it time,” George said. “You’ll be summoning a full-blown guardian before the snow falls.”

As the morning sun climbed higher and the castle stirred with life, the four boys regrouped, panting but smiling, soaked in sweat and satisfaction.

“We’ll keep practicing tomorrow,” Harry said, looking down at his wand. “I want to be ready.”

Fred gave a salute. “You’re leading the charge, mate.”

“Just try not to summon a dragon,” George smirked.

Harry smiled. Even if the light was still small, it was growing. And with every dawn, he was one step closer to wielding it fully.


The morning sun was still low, casting a gentle golden glow over the Hogwarts grounds as Harry and Hermione made their way down the sloping lawns toward Hagrid’s cottage. Birds chirped overhead, the lake sparkled in the distance, and the Forbidden Forest loomed nearby—quiet, but alive.

Today was different.

Today was Hagrid’s first official class as a professor at Hogwarts.

Harry felt a small thrill of pride as they approached the familiar wooden house with its pumpkin patch and smoke puffing from the chimney.

Hagrid stood outside his cottage, shifting from foot to foot, his massive hands wringing his coat nervously. But unlike his usual rugged gamekeeper attire, today he wore a freshly pressed dark green tunic, a heavy leather belt with polished buckles, and what looked like a custom-made cloak that actually fit him.

His wild beard had been combed (mostly), and his boots had been scrubbed clean.

“How do I look, Harry?” he asked, voice a little shaky.

Harry beamed. “You look fantastic, Hagrid. Really.”

Hermione nodded firmly. “Very professional.”

“Yeh sure?” Hagrid mumbled. “It don’t look too tight, does it?”

“Not at all,” Harry said. “And don’t worry about the class. You’ll do just fine.”

“Just one thing,” Hermione added kindly. “When you teach, remember to speak slowly. You know, sometimes when you get excited, you start talking really fast.”

Hagrid chuckled, scratching his beard. “Aye, I s’pose I do that. I’ll try, I’ll try…”

One by one, the third-years began arriving in front of the cottage, chatting and stretching out their limbs. Today was their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and curiosity buzzed in the air.

The class was a Gryffindor and Slytherin mix, so naturally, Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, arrived early, already sneering at the idea of a half-giant teaching anything “respectable.”

“Is he going to teach us how to skin flobberworms?” Draco muttered loudly to Goyle.

Harry shot him a look but said nothing. Hagrid didn’t even glance his way.

“Right then, everyone!” Hagrid called, his voice deep but clear. “Follow me, we won’t be goin’ too far in.”

The class trailed behind as Hagrid led them into the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the underbrush parting along a well-worn trail. They walked for only a few minutes before the trees opened into a clearing dappled with sunlight.

There, amidst the tall grass and blooming thistles, stood a herd of unicorns.

Gasps of wonder filled the air.

They were breathtaking—sleek, white, elegant creatures with long manes that shimmered like silk. A baby unicorn, pale gold in color, pranced among them playfully.

“Unicorns…” Lavender whispered, awestruck.

Even the Slytherins fell silent for a moment.

Hagrid beamed as the herd grazed peacefully, unbothered by the presence of the students.

“Now, unicorns are gentle creatures,” he began, “and they don’ frighten easily once they’re used ter yeh. These’ve been raised near the castle for years.”

A few of the girls couldn’t resist inching closer. The baby unicorn, curious, wandered toward them, nuzzling their hands. Parvati Patil practically melted.

“He’s so beautiful…”

“It’s a she,” Hagrid corrected gently. “Baby unicorns are born golden. Their coats turn silver at about two years, and pure white by age seven.”

Draco scoffed quietly, but even he didn’t say much more.

“Now,” Hagrid continued, growing more confident, “let’s talk about their magical properties. Unicorn hair’s used in wand cores—makes for dependable, steady magic.”

He walked slowly as he spoke, his voice steady and thoughtful.

“Their blood, as some of yeh might know, has powerful healing properties… but it comes at a price.”

He looked serious now.

“Only someone desperate or cursed would kill a unicorn for its blood.”

Harry felt a chill at that—memories of first year flickering back.

“They eat mostly forest herbs, and they mate only in deep moonlight, far from pryin’ eyes. Unicorns are shy, but noble. There ain’t a creature alive more loyal when treated with kindness.”

For nearly an hour, Hagrid spoke of feeding routines, habitat behaviors, and the significance of unicorns in magical history. He showed diagrams, passed around shed hairs, and answered questions with surprising poise.

The students, even those prone to mocking, had nothing to laugh at.

By the end of the class, Harry and Hermione caught up with Hagrid again as the students returned to the castle.

“That was brilliant, Hagrid,” Harry said. “Really.”

“I was worried at first,” Hagrid admitted, “but… they seemed to listen.”

“Because you taught with passion,” Hermione said. “You cared. It showed.”

Hagrid smiled, cheeks pink.

“Thanks, you two. Couldn’t’ve done it without yeh.”

And as the unicorns disappeared into the woods and the clearing emptied, Hagrid stood a little taller.

Today, he had not just faced his first class.

He had owned it.


The first official Stars Club meeting of the term was finally here.

Harry Potter had been looking forward to this moment all summer. Ever since the club was founded, it had become more than just a small gathering of like-minded students—it had evolved into a thriving group of passionate thinkers, creators, and dreamers.

Last year, after following Hogwarts tradition, Harry had posted notices in all four common rooms, announcing that the club was open to new members. Back then, nearly every first-year had joined, drawn in by the club’s projects, its celebrated Stars Magazine, and, of course, by Harry’s own growing fame—not just as the Boy Who Lived, but as a broomstick innovator, an entrepreneur, and the quiet force behind so many ideas that made Hogwarts feel alive.

Now those first-years were second-years, still active and loyal to the club. But this year…

Harry hadn’t expected this.

The club room, tucked near the upper side of the Charms corridor, had always been big enough. But now, as Harry arrived with Neville, Fred, George, and Hermione, the sight that greeted them made him stop in his tracks.

The room was packed.

Wall to wall, filled with first-years—all of them—and even a few older students who had never joined before but had finally caved to curiosity and admiration. Chatter buzzed like bees, and everyone craned to see Harry when he stepped inside.

“Blimey,” Fred whispered, looking around. “Are there any students left in the other common rooms?”

“I don’t think so,” George muttered, wide-eyed. “We’ve started a movement.”

Hermione frowned, half amazed, half anxious. “This many people… it’ll be impossible to keep it all organized.”

Harry gave a small, stunned laugh. “We’ll manage.”

Just then, the door creaked open again—and in stepped Hagrid.

The room quieted instantly.

He stood taller than usual, beaming under the dim candlelight, and gave a wave that nearly knocked over a hanging lantern.

“Evenin’, everyone!” he said with a broad grin. “Couldn’t miss it.”

The students clapped, and some even cheered. The Stars Club had always considered Hagrid one of their own—even before he became a professor. Now, his official role in the staff only made it more meaningful.

Fred nudged Harry. “We ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Let’s welcome him properly.”

With a flick of George’s wand, the middle table in the room transformed into a long buffet filled with sweet puddings, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, and pumpkin pasties. Butterbeer bottles popped open magically and floated to students who caught them mid-air.

“Tonight,” Harry said, stepping forward, “we’re not just welcoming our new members—we’re celebrating Professor Hagrid, a founding friend of this club and someone who’s always believed in us.”

The applause was thunderous.

Hagrid went red to the roots of his beard and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.

“Thank yeh, Harry. Thank yeh all. Means a lot. More’n I can say.”

As the party wore on—filled with laughter, food, and bursts of conversation—Hagrid leaned close to Harry, his voice half-worried.

“Harry, yeh know… this room’s too small now. We’ve got nearly all the first-years here. Can’t breathe in here, barely.”

Harry nodded. He’d already been thinking the same thing.

“We’ll need a new meeting space,” he agreed. “Something bigger. Maybe something… central.”

Hermione overheard and immediately pulled out a parchment. “There are some unused classrooms in the second-floor east wing. And I heard Professor Flitwick mention that the old dueling chamber under the Charms corridor is still intact.”

“Too dusty,” Neville said. “But maybe we can clean it.”

“I’ll ask Dumbledore,” Harry decided. “Maybe he’ll let us use one of the practice halls. If he sees how big we’ve gotten…”

“He will,” Hagrid said proudly. “Yeh’ve built somethin’ good here.”

As the night grew darker and the candles burned lower, the party slowed into calm chatter. Many of the younger students sat in groups, listening to older members talk about the Hogwarts Quidditch League idea, the Stars Magazine, and tales from previous meetings.

Harry stood by the window, looking over the crowd.

This was more than a club now.

It was a community.

And he wasn’t just its founder anymore—he was its leader.