Two days later.
The attack on the Crouch residence had become the new sensation following the fourteen Muggle murders.
Although Barty Crouch Sr.
refused an in-depth investigation by the Aurors—after all, he was the victim.
Some speculated it was revenge by Black; after all, Harry Potter’s location remained unknown, so it was better to pull off something big while the Crouch family was away for the weekend.
“However, they didn’t expect the diligent Department Head Crouch to actually be at work, allowing him to escape unscathed.
According to Crouch, only his family’s House-elf was killed, leaving no remains.”
This also became the mainstream opinion: undoubtedly, it was another major crime committed by Black.
And the assessment of Black’s strength was raised even higher, with some claiming: “Perhaps Black has strength like ‘that person,’ rivaling Dumbledore.”
Everyone gasped.
It was truly terrifying.
One had to realize that a pure-blood mansion had been breached directly, taken by a frontal assault, which made everyone recall the days when Lord Voldemort visited houses one by one.
All residential houses were no longer safe, with only a few strictly protected places being the exception.
It was just like the years when Lord Voldemort ravaged the land.
Any family that refused to submit would be purged.
Diagon Alley gradually became desolate, and some cautious shopkeepers even closed their doors temporarily.
Gradually, people at Leaky Cauldron stopped talking about “Sirius” and instead used the surname “Sirius Black” to refer to the escaped convict.
Discussion and curses directed at Sirius Black gradually decreased, replaced now by fear.
People spoke in hushed tones, their eyes grew wary, and some lingered here for a long time.
More people liked to gather here because, in a sense, even their own homes were no longer safe.
Only a few fearless people dared to curse Sirius Black.
For example, the Hogwarts gamekeeper—Hagrid.
As soon as Hagrid entered, the suffocating atmosphere seemed to lighten considerably.
Everyone looked at Hagrid and greeted him, but not many could manage a smile.
The pub owner Tom picked up a glass: “The usual, Hagrid?”
Hagrid patted Tom on the shoulder with his massive palm, nearly flattening him: “Of course, Tom.”
Hagrid was burly and easily pushed through the crowd.
Standing there, his dark, towering figure almost filled the doorway, and no one dared to block his path.
As soon as Hagrid sat down, people gathered around, starting to inquire—openly or subtly—about the movements at Hogwarts, especially Dumbledore’s intentions.
After a few glasses of strong spirits, Hagrid, who had come to purchase supplies, began to chat incessantly.
He declared that Dumbledore didn’t care about that traitor at all.
If he dared to offend Hogwarts, he would definitely be made to pay, and even Lord Voldemort could do nothing against Hogwarts.
To summarize, Dumbledore was invincible, and Sirius Black was just a dog on the side of the road.
Elara thought to herself: Indeed, just a dog on the side of the road.
Of course, regarding Crouch, whose home had been broken into, Hagrid was very cautious and didn’t talk much.
He wasn’t very reliable himself, naturally held the Ministry of Magic in contempt, and wouldn’t make things difficult for the Ministry of Magic at such a juncture.
Elara stepped forward to greet him.
“Hello!
May I ask, are you a giant?”
Hagrid looked down, quite surprised, at the small Elara.
His wary gaze softened instantly.
He replied with a hearty laugh: “Hello, little witch.
I am a half-giant.”
“I have heard of you; I hear you have a real knack for magical creatures.”
Hagrid, already happy, became even more delighted.
Many young wizards were afraid of his massive, giant-like stature, and even adult wizards were indifferent to him, mostly refraining from giving the rough and dangerous half-giant a hard time only out of respect for Dumbledore.
Receiving such praise, Hagrid happily bragged about his job—managing the Hogwarts grounds.
Hearing that Elara liked listening to his stories, he became even more enthusiastic.
Seeing that Elara did not resist, he picked her up and began telling his stories.
Elara felt as if she could be placed directly into Hagrid’s pocket.
Tom finally couldn’t help but remind him: “Hagrid, Elara has a Kneazle.”
“You have a Kneazle?
That’s amazing; I’ve always wanted one.
Can I see it?”
Elara lowered her voice and said: “Mr.
Hagrid, please don’t be so loud.
My Kneazle doesn’t have a permit yet.”
Hagrid also whispered: “Sorry, I understand how you feel.
Why don’t you keep it at my place?
Even if you can’t bring it to school, it won’t stop you from taking care of that Kneazle.”
“That won’t be necessary for now; when Uncle Kingsley returns, he will help me process it.
I would like to ask for your advice on how to take good care of my partner.”
Elara noticed that Hagrid’s clothes were covered in fur.
And it was all sorts of fur.
Clearly, a large portion of the fur here belonged to magical creatures.
If used incorrectly in Polyjuice Potion, it would lead to serious consequences for weeks.
She would have to pull hair directly from Hagrid’s head.
She proactively suggested: “I keep her upstairs; I’ll go bring her down now.”
“Hmm, it seems to be a young lady cat.” Hagrid gently placed Elara on the table.
Elara jumped off the table quickly.
Hagrid turned his head to talk to Tom about Elara.
“So she is an orphan from Germany.
How pitiful!” Hagrid felt even more sympathy for this poor but lively little girl, especially since she didn’t dislike a giant like him.
Elara returned to the attic, where Fafnir was admiring itself alone.
Elara picked up Fafnir and began to instruct: “There will be a very tall person later, practically a giant.
I need you to pull a few hairs from him.
It must be his; don’t make a mistake.
Do you understand?”
Fafnir, having recently eaten and drunk his fill, lazily yawned, indicating understanding.
Elara brought Fafnir to Hagrid.
“Good afternoon, little one.
Oh—this is a beautiful Kneazle, a rare breed.”
Hagrid slowly extended his rough, wide fingers, his movements extremely light and slow, approaching Fafnir without being abrupt.
“Do you mind if I gently pet it?
I’ll be light; I won’t scare it.”
Elara was, of course, more than happy to oblige.
Hagrid slowly stroked the Kneazle.
Although he was huge, he was very careful now, making Fafnir feel very comfortable.
Elara squeezed Fafnir’s paw.
Fafnir understood, jumped directly onto Hagrid’s body, and ran up along Hagrid’s body, straight to Hagrid’s head.
“What a naughty little one.” Hagrid didn’t mind at all.
“She never runs up to sit on my head.” Elara seemed a bit annoyed.
Hagrid gently stroked Fafnir: “Perhaps it’s because you’re too small.
When you get to Hogwarts, you must come to my hut to play; I have many cute magical creatures there.”
Elara and Hagrid made an agreement.
Clearly, she had won the friendship of this honest, simple-minded giant.
Hagrid said goodbye to Elara, carrying his pink umbrella; he still had work to do.
Fafnir got a few of Hagrid’s coarse, black hairs for Elara, which she carefully put away.
This Hagrid would obviously be coming many times during this period, so there was no need to rush.
She believed he was already used to Fafnir staying on his head.
These hairs would serve as necessary material for disguising herself as Hagrid later.
Although fresh ones were better, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Hagrid was, after all, the powerful half-giant wizard responsible for transferring the Philosopher’s Stone.
Later, she just needed to wait for Barty Crouch Jr.
to obtain or brew the Polyjuice Potion himself, and that would be it.
Better to be safe than sorry.
It might not seem tempting right now but who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”