After spending considerable time comforting Hagrid and offering what reassurance they could, Adrian and Dumbledore finally emerged from the warmth of the hut into the cool night air.
Night had fallen upon Hogwarts like a dark curtain, and the twilight sky stretched above the castle in deep purples that gradually faded to black at the horizon.
Throughout their silent journey back toward the castle, Dumbledore maintained a stern, almost hostile expression that talked about his inner turmoil. It was clear that the headmaster was in a very bad mood.
Adrian wanted to speak but he hesitated constantly.
He understood the position Dumbledore was in. For someone of Dumbledore's power and influence helping Hagrid escape his current predicament would indeed be as simple as turning his hand, if he truly wanted to intervene.
But Dumbledore wouldn't take such action, and Adrian knew why.
After all, this was Albus Dumbledore, not just any wizard, but Britain's and World's most powerful wizard. Every decision he made had influence that could shift the delicate balance of the magical world.
The silence between them stretched on, until Dumbledore suddenly broke it with a question that caught Adrian completely off guard.
"What do you think of Cornelius Fudge as a person?" Dumbledore asked, his voice sounding curious mixture of inquiry and something that might have been testing.
"Fudge?" Adrian repeated, somewhat puzzled as to why Dumbledore would suddenly shift their conversation to the Minister for Magic. He took a moment to consider his words carefully before responding. "A very ordinary fellow."
Yes, ordinary—that single word seemed to summarize his entire impression of the man they had encountered earlier. There was nothing particularly impressive or memorable about Cornelius Fudge.
"A typical politician through and through," Adrian continued, his assessment growing more detailed as he organized his thoughts. "He doesn't genuinely care about Hogwarts' affairs or the safety of its students. He has no real interest in discovering whether Hagrid is actually the culprit behind these attacks. The only thing that truly matters to him is protecting his own political interests."
Adrian's voice had a tone of disgust as he concluded, "Apart from serving his own selfish purposes, sending Hagrid to Azkaban won't help anyone or accomplish anything of value."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression growing thoughtful. "A very reasonable assessment,"
They walked in silence for several more minutes, before Dumbledore asked another question.
"Adrian, if you were in Cornelius Fudge's position, if you held the office of Minister for Magic and faced the same pressures he's experiencing—what would you do?"
Adrian shook his head gently. "I honestly don't know, Professor Dumbledore, because I could never allow myself to become someone like Fudge. I simply don't possess those qualities, nor would I want to develop them."
"I'm very glad to hear you say that," Dumbledore replied, nodding with obvious approval as a hint of relief flashed briefly in his tired eyes.
Two days later, on a cloudy morning that seemed to match the somber mood that had fallen over the castle, Adrian made his way once again to Hagrid's hut.
When he knocked on the door and received permission to enter, Adrian was surprised immediately by how drastically the interior had changed. He found Hagrid sitting listlessly on his bed.
Hagrid's unruly hair and wild beard looked as though they hadn't seen a comb or proper attention in days. His hair hung in floppy, greasy strands around his face, and his beard was tangled with what appeared to be food crumbs and bits of debris. His clothes were wrinkled and stained probably because he had been sleeping in them.
The hut itself appeared to have suffered from the same neglect that its owner was showing.
Where once everything had been messy but clean, now there was only chaos. Several muddy footprints, whether from Hagrid's own enormous boots or from visiting Ministry officials remained uncleaned on the wooden floor.
The large wooden table on the center of the room was scattered with dried Flobberworm feed that had spilled from torn bags, creating a dusty mess. Several empty tankards were abandoned among the debris, some still containing the dregs of what had once been ale or tea, now growing a thin film of mold on their surfaces.
The entire space looked as messy and neglected as its owner felt.
Most obvious of all, the fire in the massive stone fireplace had long since died out, leaving behind nothing but cold ashes and a lingering smell of old smoke.
Even Fang seemed to have absorbed his master's depression. The large dog lay listlessly by the door, his massive head resting on his paws in a posture of complete dejection.
When he noticed Adrian's arrival, he managed only a weak wag of his tail.
When Adrian entered and began removing his cloak, Hagrid reluctantly woke himself up from his bed and went toward the kitchen area to brew a pot of tea.
"The Ministry has already sent official notification to Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said to Adrian, his voice heavy with a complicated mixture of resignation, disbelief, and upset. "They're coming to take me away tomorrow morning—I still can't quite believe this is really happening."
He paused in his tea preparation, his massive hands trembling slightly as he handled the cup. "They actually believe I'm the Heir of Slytherin. Can you imagine that? Do I look like someone who would terrorize students? And all because of Aragog—something that happened so many years ago when I was just a foolish boy who thought he could tame any creature."
It was obvious that Hagrid still believed he was being arrested mainly because of that long-ago incident during his school days.
The simple, trusting man couldn't understand the more complex political things.
In reality, Cornelius Fudge knew perfectly well that Hagrid was ninety-nine percent innocent.
The Minister wasn't interested in justice or truth—he simply needed a convenient scapegoat to deal with the increasing pressure he was receiving from multiple sources: the Board of Governors, concerned parents, members of the Wizengamot, and various other political factions within the Ministry.
Hagrid, with his history, was simply unlucky enough to become that sacrificial lamb.
Adrian chose not to explain these things to Hagrid. There seemed little point in adding the burden of understanding to his already overwhelming emotional load. Instead, he reached into his traveling cloak and withdrew a small object, which he placed carefully on Hagrid's table.
The item was a small black pendant, roughly the size of a galleon but much thicker. A long, thin cord made of what appeared to be braided silk was attached to the top of the pendant, allowing it to be worn around the neck.
"What's this?" Hagrid asked, his curiosity momentarily suppressing his depression as he carefully picked up the black pendant. He brought it close to his eyes for examination.
The pendant was covered with mysterious symbols and markings he couldn't understand.
"Is this what you mentioned before—the thing you said could help me resist the Dementors?" Hagrid asked, his voice carrying a mixture of incredulity and hope.
"That's exactly right," Adrian nodded firmly. "It's a protective charm."
"How should I use this?" Hagrid asked.
"Keep it in your pocket when you're not wearing it, or simply wear it around your neck as you would any piece of jewelry," Adrian explained. "The magic is passive—it doesn't require any action on your part beyond keeping it close to your body."
Upon hearing these simple instructions, Hagrid immediately slipped the cord over his head, adjusting it so that the pendant rested against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt and overcoat.
"I don't feel anything different," He said suspiciously, looking down at himself as if expecting some immediate change. "Does it really work? How can I be sure it's functioning properly?"
"Of course it works," Adrian replied with complete confidence. "As long as you don't actively provoke those Dementors or draw unnecessary attention to yourself, they won't approach you with their usual aggressiveness. As for the charm's effectiveness—you don't need to worry about that aspect at all."
Seeing Adrian's confident expression and hearing the certainty in his voice, Hagrid began to gain some measure of confidence as well.
In fact, this protective charm was definitely effective—Adrian could guarantee its potency because he had personally tested it.
He had created a similar pendant for himself several years ago.
It was precisely because of that earlier charm that he had been able to bypass the omnipresent Dementors in Azkaban.
Moreover, for this new version intended for Hagrid, Adrian had significantly upgraded both the materials and the enchantments used in the charm's construction.
The pendant's core material came from the heartwood of lightning-struck oak that he had personally harvested from trees on his own plantation.
In ancient legends and traditional folklore, lightning-struck wood was universally said to ward off evil spirits and malicious supernatural beings.
While Adrian wasn't entirely certain whether Dementors could be classified as "evil" in the traditional sense, they certainly represented a form of malicious supernatural beings that fed on human happiness and hope.
From that perspective, the protective properties of lightning-struck wood should theoretically extend to defense against Dementor attacks.
Well, probably—magical theory was never entirely certain when dealing with such ancient and poorly understood creatures.
In any case, Adrian was confident that this enhanced protective charm would be more than adequate to help Hagrid survive whatever ordeal awaited him in the Ministry's custody, and possibly even in Azkaban itself, should the worst come to pass.
"Thank you so much for your help, Adrian," Hagrid said glumly.
Though his face still showed deep worry about the uncertain future that lay ahead of him, there was now at least a small spark of hope in his eyes.
In early May, when the Scottish spring was finally beginning to come with warmer days and longer hours of sunlight, Adrian was sharing what had become a regular afternoon tea with Hagrid when several uninvited guests arrived at the hut.
The men wore the formal robes of Ministry officials, their faces stern and businesslike as they approached the door with the walk of people carrying out unpleasant but necessary duties.
The moment had finally arrived—they had come to take Hagrid away.
After several days of mental preparation and the support of his friends, Hagrid showed remarkable composure when the officials knocked on his door and announced their purpose.
He had clearly spent considerable time coming to terms with his fate, and while he was far from happy about the situation, he no longer seemed desperately panic like earlier.
, Hagrid even took the time to temporarily transfer his duties as Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts to Adrian.
"Remember to feed Fang for me—once a day is quite enough, though he'll try to convince you he needs more," Hagrid called back to Adrian as he was being escorted from his beloved hut. "There's an injured unicorn in the Forbidden Forest—its right front leg was badly bitten by something. You'll need to check on it in a couple of days and apply fresh healing salve to the wound."
As the small group moved further away from the hut, Hagrid's voice grew louder, as if he wanted to ensure his final words would reach everyone who mattered to him.
"Also, Professor Dumbledore, please don't worry about me. I'll be perfectly fine, you'll see. What's most important now is catching that terrible monster in the castle. I believe everyone will be able to do it task soon. This is just... just staying somewhere far away for a few days, that's all. It's nothing I can't handle."
After Hagrid had been led away and the sound of their footsteps had faded into the distance, Adrian turned his attention to the other figure who had remained behind in the hut.
Dumbledore had come with those uninvited guests.
At this moment, Dumbledore stood in the shadows of the hut, his expression unpleasant, with a hint of weariness between his brows.
Adrian suspected that Dumbledore had already done numerous negotiations with various Ministry officials over the past several days, attempting to find some alternative solution that would allow Hagrid to remain at Hogwarts. All of those efforts had apparently come to nothing, leaving him feeling helpless.
"Tell me honestly, Adrian," Dumbledore said with a deep sigh, "am I being too weak? Have I failed in my duty to protect those who depend on me?"
Adrian was taken aback by the raw vulnerability in Dumbledore's voice. After a moment of consideration, Adrian decided to respond with complete honesty rather than empty reassurances.
"In fact, we all know that you could have kept Hagrid here anytime you wanted to," Adrian said bluntly. "If you had chosen to intervene directly, there's nothing the Ministry could have done to stop you."
It was a simple truth that everyone involved understood, even if no one had been willing to say it so directly.
The Ministry of Magic simply couldn't control or dictate terms to someone of Dumbledore's extraordinary abilities and influence. After all, in the magical world, power ultimately came from magical strength and the respect it got was not from political position or official authority.
As the most powerful wizard of the current era, Dumbledore naturally had nothing to fear from a mere government institution. His decision to allow the Ministry to take Hagrid away was undoubtedly the result of considering many complex factors.
Hearing Adrian's brutally honest reply, Dumbledore's already furrowed brow deepened even further.
After a moment of internal struggle, he slowly shook his head, as if trying to convince himself as much as Adrian. "I have no way to do that."
"Of course you do," Adrian said with certainty. "You just don't want to."
"Then do you think I should have acted differently?" Dumbledore asked as he followed Adrian's line of reasoning.
"Don't ask me to make that decision for you," Adrian replied, spreading his hands in a gesture. "But if it were me in your position, I definitely wouldn't have let him leave Hogwarts."
"I don't want to either," Dumbledore sighed again. "Perhaps you're more suited to be Headmaster of Hogwarts than I am."
The words hit Adrian like a lightning bolt, causing him to choke on the tea he had been sipping.
"Cough—cough cough—"
Adrian nearly choked completely, his eyes watering as he struggled to process what he had just heard.
"What did you say, Professor Dumbledore?" Adrian managed to gasp out between coughs, looking up at the headmaster with an expression of complete shock and disbelief.
When he finally managed to focus his vision properly, Adrian found Dumbledore looking back at him with an expression that was neither quite a smile nor quite serious.
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