Location: Hogwarts Groundskeeper’s Hut. Present: A. Dumbledore, R. Hagrid.
HAGRID: Summat’s been at the unicorns again.
DUMBLEDORE: Yes – I saw the report. Was the body found this time?
HAGRID: Uh huh. Grizzly piece of work, it was. I don’t know what could er done it.
DUMBLEDORE: Really, Rubeus? You don’t suspect?
HAGRID: How could it er been? What, someone from town? Yer brother? A student? A teacher?
DUMBLEDORE: I do not pretend to know. The corpse – do you still have it?
HAGRID: Nah. Silvanus and I buried it quick, just as he says you asked. Got the the horn cut away for Professor Snape and the hairs all plucked for market. Ollivander’s gonner come by sometime after Christmas, he says. We’ll give him a good price.
DUMBLEDORE: You’ve spoken to Minerva about the paperwork this time, I trust? I don’t want a repeat of the Tentacula incident.
HAGRID: No, no – er, never. Yeah. I got the forms. Professor.
DUMBLEDORE: Good. Fascinating though – for someone to go to the effort to kill a unicorn, yet leave the horn and the hairs. What killed it, do you think?
HAGRID: Couldn’t say. Something clean, I suspect. Seems like the bugbears got after it though. All drained out of fluids, poor critter.
DUMBLEDORE: Fluids?
HAGRID: Er, blood most specific.
DUMBLEDORE: Fascinating. Fascinating.
HAGRID: Not much use for unicorn blood, s’far as I know. But I don’t know much, booklearning-wise at least. Potions were never my great shakes, ya know.
DUMBLEDORE: Indeed. Were a person to hunt and slay a unicorn, Rubeus, how do you suspect they could do it?
HAGRID: Gallopin’ gargoyles, ‘Fessor, can’t say I ever thought of it much. No good killing a unicorn, is it? Bad luck. Don’t like even thinking of it.
DUMBLEDORE: Try. Just for a moment.
HAGRID: Well, I suspect, er, you’d need a young lass to do it. Old stories say you need an, er, virgin – but I don’t suspect they be caring too much about the, er, experience of any of us human types. But they like girls better than men, that’s fer certain. Beyond that, it’s – well, same’s hunting anything else, innit? Got ter be patient, got ter be quiet, got ter bait it just a bit – there’s where the virgin comes in, least in old stories. There’s that tapestry in the library corridor, that shows it just about right I’d say. Nasty business killing one though. F’yer fast with yer wandwork you can do it that way. I’d want me crossbow, seein’ as I – well, you know. They’re secret-like and they’re fast, but that’s like most critters of their types, with the hoofs and all.
DUMBLEDORE: Yes, yes. The hart, the bicorn –
HAGRID: Well, you see those deer-types, they’re actually quite different from horses. Entirely different order you see. You got the even-toed unglutes, and the odd-toed unglutes, and ‘ccordin’ to people who know best actually a unicorn’s more related to a narwhale or a rhinoceros than it is a –
DUMBLEDORE: If I wanted a lecture on evolutionary zoology, Rubeus, I would drop by the local grammar school. Now, I ask you quite seriously – do you believe it’s possible someone is killing our unicorns?
HAGRID: ’Spossible. Yes. I’d want to see it to believe it, though. ‘Spect you’d need more than one set of eyes, though, to catch ‘em at it.
DUMBLEDORE: Hmm. Perhaps it would make a good detention. Teach students the meaning of work, and of fear, entering the forest by dark to catch a moonlit stalker –
HAGRID: Barmy old codger you always were, Professor. If you don’t mind me saying.
DUMBLEDORE: To the contrary. I take it as a badge of pride.
HAGRID: Well, good. Mean no offence, you see. [Pause.] On a different note, I’ve got a quanundrum I’d like yer thoughts on. Speakin’ a Christmas.
DUMBLEDORE: I’m all ears.
HAGRID: Little Harry – I s’pect he don’t got much in the way of Christmas presents this year. New to the world and all. I’d like ter get him summat. Not much for ideas on that front though, ‘fraid he don’t like my cooking too much.
DUMBLEDORE: Hmm. Actually, I have a marvellous idea. I came across the other day, in one of the old classrooms, a flute of Duridic origins, rather common as collectors go but delightful all the same. I believe it has soporific powers.
HAGRID: Sulphurific – ?
DUMBLEDORE: It puts the listener to sleep. Animals especially. I was going to put it in the archives, but I think it would be a delight to send as a gift. Perhaps young Potter might appreciate it.
HAGRID: Strange gift for an 11-year-old. Figured he’d rather a box of Honeydukes, or a pack of Dr. Fillibuster’s, or something from Zonko’s –
DUMBLEDORE: Surely, surely. But remember we are a school, Rubeus, even at Christmas. We ought to orient our student interactions toward education. Consider it. I’d be happy to box it up and drop it off sometime tomorrow. I have to do my own wrapping anyway.
HAGRID: Alright, alright. Sounds nice, I ’spose. Never was much for presents an’ all.
DUMBLEDORE: [Stretching] Well, Rubeus, it’s been a delight, as always – circumstances notwithstanding.
[Dumbledore stands up and heads toward the door. He turns back as he reached for the handle.]
DUMBLEDORE: By the way – do try to be secretive about the, er, Article. I know you’ve a tendency to let things – how shall we put it? – slip. The entire matter is a personal affair between me and Nicholas Flamel. There is no need for the boy – or anyone else – to know any more than that.
HAGRID: Of course, ‘Fessor. Of course. You can trust me, Professor. You can trust me more’n any of those other ones. That’s my oath. You got my word.
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