Harry Potter : Chapter 30: A Crown for the King I

The train rumbled quietly like it always did as the landscape rolled away under the trails, the Scottish Highlands slowly fading away through the occasional tunnel and turn that managed to completely hide the environment for long seconds.

Out of the carriages, the sky was clear of clouds while the summer sun didn't quite manage to chase away the dark thoughts of those that would spend the summer at risk of a blitz from the Germans.

Inside a compartment, Tom Riddle sat in the company of a cat and a way too big 12 years old Slytherin.

It wasn't your everyday cat however, oh no. Minerva had obviously succeeded in her endeavour, and under Dumbledore's careful guiding hand, she had become the youngest Animagus ever registered by the Ministry.

Still, she wasn't the tabby cat that Hagrid had joked about. She was a Norwegian Forest Cat instead, weighting around 10 kilograms, even if she almost appeared like a boulder any time that she was curled up.

Her colouring was actually common for that particular breed: mostly grey with black and white strands that broke the monotony of the colour.

The animal had a top coat of glossy, long, water-shedding hair and a woolly undercoat for insulation. Tom had little doubt that Minerva was unberably hot given the summer's heat coupled with her species adaptation to the cold climate of Norwegian Forests, but given the novelty of her skill, she enjoyed showing off any time she could.

And even the other 12 years old wizard wasn't your common Slytherin student. To be entirely truthful, he wasn't your common kid, period. From his disregard of any form of social etiquette at the oddest times, his scatterbrained nature, the weeks he spent in an obsessive research of the oddest topics... no, there was very little of ordinary about either of Tom's companions.

Like it often happened, Riddle's thoughts were a whirlwind in which he took notice of those details that he would later bring together to form a personal theory about this or that tidbit of magic.

Distractedly, the Slytherin genius briefly caressed the vial of liquid luck that he kept in an inner breast pocket that he spent many hours enchanting to the best of his ability.

However, and not for the first time, he found that his thoughts kept revolving around the younger Slytherin present in his compartment.

Their first meeting hadn't gone in a way that Tom could have foreseen. He had sneaked up behind the two aggressors-to-be of the newbie that clearly was too strange to be welcomed with open arms, expecially given his lackluster bloodline that implied a complete lack of any family presitge.

Riddle had been ready then, to jump in and help once Rubeus gave proof of his usefulness, or to help him getting back to his feet once the two older students were done with him. In either situation, he would have ended up with a thankful wizard open to being reeled in.

A couple of years down the line, Hagrid would have surely turned somehat useful, if only for his size.

And maybe for the second time in his life, Tom Riddle's predictions about the sequence of events that was about to happen had been thrown out of the window: the unnaturally large first year student had outmatched the students that had been studying magic for years.

He gave proof of being somewhat invulnerable to low grade charms, as well as being capable of non-verbal magic.

A magic that he had apparently made up by combining two charms. Which was impossible. At least it looked so from what Tom had known of magic at the time.

The intriguing first year had proceeded in blatantly showing his wit and cunning to Tom, challenging him in magic and intelligence with a timed match of chess.

From his words, to his posture, to each of his actions, Tom had immediately understood that Rubeus could either turn out to be very useful, or very dangerous.

It quickly became clear that despite his unruly nature, and his unpredictability, Rubeus would be more useful as a 'companion' than as a pawn.

After all, Ridle had little doubt that Hagrid would develop his own ideas about the natural order of the world, and that he would do whatever he wanted to pursue them. Luckily enough for Riddle, the unnaturally large Slytherin had soon demonstrated how little he cared for anything that wasn't magic.

And that particular stopped Riddle from keeping his distance. Oh, the prodigious Parselmouth knew that personal power, the power granted by virtue of magic, wasn't something that could be either ignored nor dismissed in favour of the political sway that he saw the echoes of in how the purebloods acted with each other.

Being saddled with the presence of a third member to their little duo hadn't been something that Riddle had quickly accepted, but Minerva's bright mind and humonguous talent quickly granted her a place on the very short list of people that Tom wanted to use without future plans to dispose of them.

Very much like Hagrid, she was more useful if free to roam her way through magic.

That she managed to become an Animagus at her age was proof enough of just how impressive she would become.

From the look of things, Hagrid's second year of schooling had been his most busy thus far, mostly because of the added side activities of brewing under Slughorn's expert gaze and sneaking out of Hogwarts almost every other night.

Truly, it was impressive that he managed so without getting caught outside of the castle. After all, Rubeus wasn't the more discrete wizard around.

Noticing the pensive expression on Tom's face, apparently the subject of his curiosity couldn't resist: "If you keep caressing the vial, you'll go blind." Hagrid grinned at Riddle, earning himself a disdainful huff from the Slytherin student and an amused twitch of the tail from the cat that was pretending to sleep in a patch of sunlight that cut over the seats.

Even as he uncounsciously pursed his lips in an amusing imitation of Minerva's quirk, Tom took his hand out from the inner pocket of his robe, his thougths shifting over the complexity of the brew he did his best to keep safe. The breweing process had been nightmarish, and without Slughorn's expert hand to correct the endless minutiae, there was little chance of success.

With a faint smile, Tom noticed that Hagrid gingerly touched the vial under his shirt: his solution had been more blatant and less elegant. Given the fact that he lived in the wizarding world, he had simply charmed the vial unbreakable, and kept it as a necklace.

Avoiding the topic that brought to mind the far too many and way too long hours spent right next to the unreasonably large student, Tom spoke: "So, you expect Minerva and I to pretend we didn't notice your comings and goings this year? Or your choice in personal studies.

A single eye of the Norwegian Forest Cat opened lazily and rested on Hagrid's reticent form. A frown was evident on the far too large student, and his shoulders were set in the way he always kept them when he was going to use the truth to bullshit his way through a situation.

His eyes landed briefly on the cat that was observing him, and after a couple of seconds, his shoulders slumped minutely: "Fine... Minerva studying how to be an Animagus, and the subtler implications of the Felix Felicis brewing process made me think."

"Which must have been very hard."

"Hilarious Tom," Hagrid deadpanned, "I see why the professors think you're a prodigy, it must be because of your outrageously sharp wit."

The way too large wizard rolled his shoulders uncomfortably at Tom's faint smirk, only to go back to the topic of the conversation.

"I've looked over crossbreeding, werewolves, and I've started to look into building myself a terrarium like the one Sluggy uses to keep that creepy thingy... what's its name..."

"Swooping Evil?"

Hagrid snapped his fingers with a satisfied expression while he pointed at Tom: "That one! Yes, I've considerably expanded my horizons this year."

"And what has your research to do with your nightly escapades..." Tom's smile blossomed and immediately turned devious.

"Oh, I can't believe it, you're already started experimenting with magical creatures?"

The half-asleep cat uncurled from her position and stared at the far too large Slytherin student with a glare that was just as poisonous as the one she was capable of wielding in human form.

"What?" Hagrid appeared genuinely confused about the accusation, "No, that wouldn't make sense at all... I hate that I can't even try to lie to you about my topics of research by the way, but in any case I'd need months free of supervision to get started, and a safe way to keep an eye on the situation..."

"Is that why you spread the request for a House Elf in the kitchens?" Tom's devious smile widened considerably, "You want to experiment on the creatures?"

"I'd say that they have a hard enough life as it is, Riddle," Hagrid's frown clearly expressed how offended he was by the last accusation, "but no, in any case, I wouldn't experiment on a living creature, I told you, I'm looking into crossbreeding, and werewolves, what does that tell you?"

"Mreow." Minerva's opinion wasn't quite made obvious by her twitching, furry tail, but her annoyance was easily readable in the way her claws casually popped out to sink in her seat.

Hagrid looked at her for a couple of seconds, as if he was considering how much to reveal, only to sigh once more.

"I'm trying to figure out a way to cure werewolves."

Tom blinked at the admission, while Minerva's ear twitched forward in a clearly interested fashion.

"You want to..." Riddle's stopped halway through his question, seeing the seriousness of his Housemate and recognizing the outlandish disregard for what everyone always thought impossible typical of Hagrid.

The older Slytherin simply laughed then, wordless at the sheer... outrageous gall that Hagrid had in admitting it so blandly, as if his success was a foregone conclusion.

"A Werewolf and an Animagus are two completely different things, I know that much." Hagrid explained.

"But you know how I distilled the very Dawn into a potion, a potion that's nothing more than a small definition to pour into the story of a larger brew."

"You want to engineer the ingredients themselves!" Tom's voice was openly amazed at the sheer ambition of his Housemate and amused by the sheer complexity of the task.

"Mreow?"

"Something like that..." Hagrid tilted his head sideways while he crossed his imposing arms over his chest, "It will take years, and I don't aim immediately for a complete cure, no, the first part would to figure out a way to affect the lycanthropy.

Then I can streamline the process and tweak or add parts until something good actually pops in my hands."

"But how would it even work?" Riddle asked while he regained control over his reactions.

"Well, take an Hippogryff for example." Hagrid uncrossed his arms and started gesturing with his hands.

"Eagle and Horse, and the main characteristic is that they're all unquestionably very proud beasts. Both a rampant horse and an eagle with its wings spread can simbolyze that pride.

Pride as a catalyst for the merging, but that's only a theory. I know that you're not completely sold on my theory about Symbols across every field of magic."

"You're saying that the Hippogryff is an artificial breed?" Riddle was pretty sure that such an information would have been divulged if true, after all, everyone knew that Peruvian Vipertooth Dragons were a crossbreed between some snake and an actual dragon, a crossbreed that turned out to be extremely capable of surviving in nature.

"Well, yeah?" Hagrid blinked at what he clearly considered a rather obvious point.

"I think so. At the very least, either that, or at some point there were a lot of animals crossed one with another and only the ones 'magical enough' managed to survive and breed."

"When you say 'magical enough' I assume you mean that the magic of the parts merges well together? That the strenght of the creature leverages the symbol that keeps together the parts?" Riddle frowned as he hunched forward on his seat despite his standard reticence about showing interest in the thoughts of others.

"Besides the human hybrids," Hagrid spoke consciously ignoring the displeased frown on Riddle's features at the reminder of the existence of those he deemed subhuman.

"Sirens, Centaurs, Sphinxes, Veelas, and that's without talking of curses gone out of control such as vampirism, lycanthropy, and the strange whatever that's going on with Dementors..."

"Nobody knows where Dementors come from." Riddle frowned at the temporary change of topic, because he had researched that particular subject out of his interest about souls.

"Are you implying that you've figured it out by chance while you were off trying to set up an illegal breeding facility for magical creatures?"

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