Adam stands at the edge of the Great Lake, a bucket of fish in hand, the crisp breeze carrying the faint scent of water and algae. The surface of the lake ripples gently under the touch of the wind, reflecting the late afternoon sunlight like shards of scattered glass. He kneels slightly, selects a plump fish, and with an easy flick of his wrist, tosses it into the water. It lands with a soft splash and floats momentarily on the surface, its silvery scales catching the light.
For a few seconds, nothing happens, and the lake remains eerily still. Then, without warning, massive tentacles emerge, their slick, dark surfaces glistening in the sunlight. One tentacle curls around the fish, pulling it effortlessly into the depths. Moments later, Argos rises from the water, his enormous head breaking the surface with a smooth, deliberate motion. His round, glistening eyes, each the size of a large dinner plate, fixate on Adam with happiness.
“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” Adam says, a small smile tugging at his lips. He adjusts his grip on the bucket and adds, “My classes ended early today. Thought I’d come and see how you’re doing.”
Argos emits a low, rumbling noise that reverberates through the air and water alike, a sound somewhere between a purr and a hum. His tentacles ripple and sway lazily, skimming the surface of the lake. Adam takes it as an acknowledgment and begins tossing more fish, one by one, into the water.
“Potions today,” Adam continues conversationally, watching as Argos deftly catches each fish in turn. “Snape wasn’t his usual cheerful self—shocker, I know—but I manage to get through without him sneering too much.”
Argos shifts slightly, his tentacles swirling in the water as though he’s listening. Adam chuckles softly.
After a while, as the last fish disappears into Argos’s grasp, the giant squid lets out another low rumble. Slowly, he sinks back beneath the surface, his massive form vanishing into the lake’s murky depths. Adam watches until the last ripple fades, then sighs, setting the empty bucket down.
Turning his attention back to the lake, Adam waits. He knows the Grindylows, the mischievous water demons of the lake, won’t venture near as long as Argos is present. Patience pays off, and soon, the water begins to ripple again—this time with the unmistakable signs of the Grindylows emerging. Their sharp, gnarled heads and spindly fingers break the surface first, their bright yellow eyes glinting with mischief.
“Alright, you lot,” Adam says with mock sternness, reaching into his robes and pulling out a smaller pouch full of meat. He tosses chunks into the water, watching as the Grindylows swarm the offerings. Their sharp teeth flash in the sunlight as they devour the meat with a ferocity that never fails to amuse him.
“You’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath, knowing full well they don’t understand—or care. One particularly bold Grindylow ventures closer to the shore, its clawed fingers scraping against a rock. Adam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck,” he warns, though his tone is more amused than threatening.
As the Grindylows finally retreat into the depths, their antics fresh in his mind, Adam stands and brushes off his robes. The Great Lake, once lively with activity, grows still again, the water shimmering softly in the fading light. He picks up the empty bucket, already contemplating his next visit and the strange, enchanting creatures that call the lake home. Maybe one day, he tells himself, he will find the Kelpies.
Leaving the tranquil shores of the Great Lake behind, Adam moves deeper into the castle grounds, eventually arriving at a small clearing known for its fire salamander population. The clearing, encircled by charred logs and patches of ashen earth, crackles faintly with residual heat from the salamanders’ fiery presence. Adam crouches and scatters a collection of insects—a mix of beetles and crickets—onto the ground. Moments later, the salamanders emerge, their vibrant, flame-colored scales glinting in the sunlight. They move with a graceful lethality, their small, glowing tongues flicking out to snatch the offerings.
Adam watches them intently, fascinated by the way their fire dims and brightens as they feed. “You lot are as greedy as ever,” he comments, tossing another handful of insects closer to a smaller, just-born salamander that hesitates at the edge of the group.
Just as the salamanders begin to retreat into their burrows, a cluster of Puffskeins rolls into the clearing. Their soft, spherical bodies, covered in pastel-colored fur, bounce across the grass like tiny, fluffy balls. Adam smiles as they surround him, their small, pink tongues darting out curiously.
“Hey there, you little troublemakers,” he greets, pulling a pouch of dead spiders and moths from his robes. He feeds the Puffskeins one by one, their contented hums vibrating softly as they devour the treats. A few of the younger ones nudge against his hands, and Adam can’t resist petting their velvety fur. The warmth of their humming fills him with a quiet sense of joy, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of castle life.
After spending a few minutes with the Puffskeins, Adam wanders to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where his diricawl friends often gather. The vibrant, flightless birds are as elusive as they are charming, appearing and disappearing in bursts of short Apparition. Today, however, they don’t make him wait long. One by one, they begin to appear around him, their multicolored plumage gleaming like jewels in the dappled sunlight.
Adam laughs softly as the birds eagerly approach him, their excitement palpable. “You’ve multiplied since the last time I was here,” he observes, noting the increase in their numbers. He reaches into his bag and produces an assortment of food—brightly colored flowers, small fruits, and a handful of insects. The diricawls chirp cheerfully as they peck at the offerings, their delicate movements mesmerizing to watch.
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One particularly bold diricawl catches Adam off guard by Apparating directly onto his head. Its tiny claws settle comfortably into his hair, and it chirps insistently, as if demanding more attention. Adam tilts his head slightly, trying to dislodge it, but the bird stubbornly holds its ground.
“Really?” Adam says, exasperated but amused. “You’re not making this easy for me, you know.” He reaches up to offer the bird a piece of fruit, but it ignores the gesture, content to perch on its newfound throne.
With the diricawl still stubbornly perched on his head, Adam decides to make his way to Hagrid’s hut, leaving their resting ground behind. The massive wooden structure comes into view, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Fang’s distant barking echoes across the grounds, and Adam can already imagine Hagrid’s booming laughter greeting him.
Hagrid hunches over in his garden, his massive hands carefully repotting a particularly stubborn Fanged Geranium, when Adam approaches. “Afternoon, Hagrid,” Adam calls out, the diricawl still perched comically on his head.
Hagrid straightens up, brushing dirt from his hands, and bursts into hearty laughter at the sight. “Yeh’ve got a stubborn one there, Adam,” he says, his usual gruff voice carrying a hint of amusement. The diricawl, unbothered by the comment, chirps smugly and nestles further into Adam’s hair.
Adam grins. “Seems to think I’m a walking perch.” But his smile fades slightly as he notices the shadow in Hagrid’s usually cheerful demeanor. “Everything alright?” he asks, his tone softening.
Hagrid sighs heavily, his broad shoulders slumping. “It’s Malfoy,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration. “The little git’s threatenin’ ter report Buckbeak ter his father an’ the Ministry. Says he’ll make sure Buckbeak gets punished fer scratchin’ him.”
Adam frowns, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He considers offering to intervene but holds back, knowing that Harry and Hermione are likely to handle it. Instead, Adam places a reassuring hand on Hagrid’s arm. “Don’t worry, Hagrid. We’ll sort it out when the time comes. Buckbeak will be fine.”
Hagrid gives a small, appreciative smile, though the worry doesn’t completely leave his face. “Reckon yeh’ve got yer hands full already,” he says, nodding toward the diricawl, which lets out a triumphant chirp.
Adam chuckles, deciding to shift the topic. “Speaking of hands full, can we visit Aragog today? I brought some special meat from America this summer, and I thought he and Mosag might like it.”
Hagrid’s face brightens slightly at the suggestion. “Aye, that’d be good. Aragog’s always up fer a treat.”
The two set off toward the Forbidden Forest, their path winding deeper into the dense woods. The diricawl finally decides to vacate Adam’s head as they near the Acromantula colony, hopping off with a satisfied chirp and disappearing into the underbrush.
As they enter the massive burrow, the air grows cooler and carries a faint, earthy smell. The webbed tunnels shimmer faintly in the dim light filtering through the trees above. Aragog and his mate, Mosag, rest near the center of the colony, their massive forms partially obscured by shadows. Mosag, now larger and older than Aragog, remains mostly silent, her focus shifting only when Adam produces the meat from his bag.
“Good ter see yeh,” Hagrid says warmly as he tosses chunks of meat to the smaller Acromantulas scuttling around them. The spiders move with surprising coordination, their sharp legs clicking against the ground as they gather the food.
Aragog tilts his massive head slightly, his milky-white eyes giving him an air of ancient wisdom. “No trouble lately,” he says in his deep, rasping voice when Hagrid inquires about the colony’s well-being. “The younger ones are restless but manageable.”
Some of the younger Acromantulas dare to creep closer, their boldness earning a soft chuckle from Adam as they snatch at bits of meat with surprising speed. One particularly brave spider tries to grab a piece straight from Hagrid’s hand, eliciting a booming laugh from the half-giant.
“Well, yer colony’s lookin’ healthy,” Hagrid remarks, his tone pleased.
After ensuring the colony is well-fed and leaving behind some extra provisions, Adam and Hagrid say their goodbyes to Aragog and Mosag. As they emerge from the burrow, the sunlight filtering through the dense canopy seems brighter, and the forest feels a little less ominous.
“That went well,” Adam says, adjusting his bag as they make their way back to the castle.
“Aye,” Hagrid agrees, his mood lighter than when Adam first arrived. “Always good ter check in on ‘em. Thanks fer comin’ along, Adam.”
Adam smiles. “Anytime, Hagrid.”
As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet, Adam’s gaze shifts upward. High above the grounds, dark, shadowy forms glide in slow, deliberate circles. A chill creeps through the air as the Dementors hover at a distance, their presence an oppressive weight that casts unnaturally long shadows across the castle grounds. Adam pulls his robes tighter around himself, silently thankful they aren’t venturing closer like last time.
Back in the warm glow of the Great Hall, Adam joins Harry, Ron, and Hermione at their usual spot near the middle of the Gryffindor table. The aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and warm pumpkin pasties fills the air, mingling with the hum of chatter from students unwinding after a long day.
“You missed all the fun,” Adam teases, grabbing a piece of chicken and placing it on his plate.
Ron looks up from his food, an incredulous expression on his face. “Your idea of fun involves dangerous creatures and forests that would eat me alive,” he says, shaking his head.
Hermione, seated beside Ron, adjusts her neatly stacked books on the table. “Some of them are cute,” she admits with a slight smile, “but I think I’ll stick to books, thanks.”
Adam chuckles, savoring the comfortable banter. “You two don’t know what you’re missing,” he says. “Argos was in a great mood today, and the Puffskeins? Absolutely adorable.”
Harry smirks. “I’ll leave the creature wrangling to you, Adam. I’m busy enough dodging Snape’s wrath and Dementors these days.”
The group laughs, the weight of recent events momentarily lifting. As the plates clear themselves and students begin trickling out of the hall, Adam feels the day’s exhaustion settle over him.
He makes his way back to the Gryffindor dormitory, the familiar warmth of the common room greeting him as he enters. Climbing the stairs to his room, he finds Seraphina, his owl, perched gracefully on the back of a chair. Her sharp golden eyes regard him with what seems like approval as he reaches out to stroke her soft feathers.
“Hey there, girl,” Adam murmurs, his voice gentle as he feeds her a small treat. Seraphina hoots softly in response, leaning into his touch.
Kicking off his shoes, Adam stretches out on his bed, the day’s adventures replaying in his mind. His eyelids grow heavy as he thinks of the hours ahead. “Just a few hours,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “Then it’s back to work.”
With that, he drifts into a light sleep, knowing Hermione will expect him fresh and focused for their nightly study session in the Room of Requirement.