Chapter 20: Hagrid's Hut
For a giant, Hagrid's hut was surprisingly small. His head nearly touched the ceiling, yet for Sainz—standing at 1.6 meters—the nearly four-meter-high ceiling made the space feel quite roomy.
Everything inside was oversized. The cup Hagrid used for drinking looked like a tiny bucket to Sainz, and the small bed resembled a miniature boat.
Even in September, there was a large stove burning in the room. What was a wizard thinking, having such a stove still going at this time of year? For cooking, sure, but still…
The hut was dimly lit and smelled faintly unpleasant, with all kinds of animal materials hanging from the walls. One particular bundle of white hair caught Sainz's eye—it was evidence that Hagrid was quite wealthy.
Hagrid explained, "That's from a tail… I use it as a bandage when an animal gets hurt. Works great… it's really strong."
In the original story, two professors once debated the price of unicorn tail hair—one claimed ten Galleons per strand, the other insisted it was ten Galleons per bundle.
Is it really true that permanent residents of the wizarding world perceive the value of the same thing so differently?
Sainz tended to think both were right. Just like any object, there's good and bad quality—even unicorn tail hair wouldn't be all the same. Ollivander was right: not every tree can be made into a wand. The principle applies to everything. Not every unicorn tail hair holds powerful magic.
Think about the two professors: Slughorn and Lupin. Slughorn pursues a luxurious life, demanding the best of everything, while Lupin, even after becoming a professor, lived humbly with patched clothes. They move in totally different circles—one's seven-dollar slippers could easily be the other's seven-thousand-dollar pair.
Is that wrong? Not at all!
Hagrid, guarding the Forbidden Forest with all its treasures, surely wasn't short on money. Yet he chose a simple, almost medieval lifestyle. That's just his nature—he didn't crave luxury and was content with a humble existence.
Sainz spent a few hours in Hagrid's hut, drinking the bitter gourd tea and trying his rock cake, finishing the check-in task.
"It's chewy, and a little bland, but layered and rich—pretty good," Sainz said, chewing the two-inch-thick pancake with a texture like crispy rice crust.
Though he appeared frail and ordinary, Sainz was far from it. He didn't need reminders—he knew he could treat a full-grown Siberian tiger like a kitten. Don't ask how he knew that.
Science is about research, after all.
He never neglected physical training or magical conditioning. At his core, he was afraid of death—especially sudden death, having died once before. He wasn't scared of growing old and passing naturally, but the idea of being cut down abruptly unsettled him.
In this wonderful world, there were still so many unknowns and so many beautiful things worth cherishing. To die suddenly would be such a disappointment!
Voldemort, he thought bitterly, I want you dead!
———
As dusk fell, Sainz declined Hagrid's invitation to dinner and left with determination.
The last stop on the map-running mission was the Whomping Willow.
From a distance that morning, the tree seemed bare, its many branches appearing leafless. But up close, Sainz realized he was wrong.
The trunk was nearly 60 centimeters thick, splitting into four main branches about five or six meters above the ground. These branches twisted like pythons, each giving off an ominous, coiled power.
The main branches divided into secondary ones, which twisted at odd, joint-like bends—seemingly unnecessary, but in reality designed to confuse and trap. Hanging from these were short willow branches—not like the soft, silky, long ones on regular weeping willows.
This tree was different. The shorter willow branches and thick, gnarled limbs gave the illusion of barrenness from afar. Yet up close, the foliage was surprisingly lush.
Another oddity were the knots along the trunk and branches. To someone unfamiliar, the tree might look ugly or misshapen. But to those who knew, every twist and bump was a weapon.
Those odd bends and knots stretched the tree's reach—like a spring coiled longer than it appears. The Whomping Willow's actual attack range was far greater than its size suggested.
As Sainz cautiously stepped closer, the thin willow branches swayed slightly, as if moved by a mountain breeze.
The secret of handling the Whomping Willow was well-known in the original story—press the right knot on the main trunk, and it would instantly calm down.
Finding the correct knot was just a matter of trial and error.
Beyond the tree lay a passage leading outside the school—to the Shrieking Shack.
Better not get too curious or reckless just yet. He'd only just arrived at Hogwarts—it was best not to act like he knew everything.
With the main Hogwarts map fully illuminated, only the Forbidden Forest and the interior of the Black Lake remained unchecked. Time to upgrade those next.
"I need to practice the Disillusionment Charm over the next two days," Sainz muttered. "The invisibility effect I have now is pretty weak. This awkward kind of invisibility won't keep me from being spotted."
The Disillusionment Charm was an advanced spell, detailed in the Standard Sixth Level Spells. Without having purchased all those books, Sainz would have been stuck.
He had searched the bookstores thoroughly but found no true invisibility spell, nor any mention of one.
Invisibility certainly existed. He recalled when Harry once went looking for monster books—the store manager grumbled about a batch of "Invisible Books of Invisibility" that literally vanished, costing them a fortune.
The Hogwarts library even had a dedicated invisible section.
Books about invisibility only covered invisible creatures or invisibility cloaks.
Invisibility cloaks were woven from the fur of invisible animals, and their effects faded over time.
Why did Harry's Invisibility Cloak always work perfectly?
Because it wasn't just any cloak—it was one of the Three Sacred Treasures!
Without a real invisibility spell, what could he do? Create his own.
Any aspiring wizard walked this path—developing new spells.
The foundation was key.
Sainz wasn't arrogant enough to think that less than two months in the wizarding world was enough to safely invent a spell.
Many spells were created by accident, by wizards who weren't especially skilled.
But he believed countless others were lost to ignorance and recklessness, their attempts unrecorded.
After dinner, Sainz visited the kitchens to make himself known to the house-elves, earning their happiness.
If you want something, you have to pay for it. Not to mention, he hoped to "borrow" some elves in the future!
Showing gratitude often was wise. This kind of mutual benefit was worth maintaining long-term.
House-elves had communities of their own, with families and children. By the time he graduated, those little ones might be grown—capable of "kidnapping" an entire family.
Think positively!
He had a great Sunday with classmates and tried to persuade his overly excited roommate to stay in and rest that evening.
"If I were you, I'd go to bed early," Sainz advised. "You don't want to be late for the first class after the weekend—that'd be a nightmare."
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