Chapter 214

Hagrid’s ability to keep secrets is virtually nonexistent.

The few people from Hope Cottage had only been in his house for a moment before they discovered his secret: he had acquired a dragon egg.

So this morning, the group from Hope Cottage had been invited to Hagrid’s hut to name the Norwegian Ridgeback.

But before they even set out, they began to argue:

“Hermione, for Merlin’s sake, where’s my sleep time?!”

Ron jumped nearly out of his seat upon seeing his study schedule.

“Eight hours? Don’t you have eyes?”

Hermione tilted her head up.

“Merlin— I don’t think I’m old enough to sleep only that long. Maybe when I’m ancient.”

Ron was practically begging.

He and Harry simply couldn’t stand up to Hermione. In Hope Cottage, En would Making Guide them gently and precisely.

His green eyes were always deep and emotionless when alone, but when faced with their questions, they revealed a comforting patience.

Yet no one wanted to trouble En constantly; everyone knew he was busy—so busy he was always hard to find.

So Ron and Harry were constantly under Hermione’s guidance, and slowly they realized that while she was still annoying, without her, they’d surely suffer disastrous consequences with their assignments.

“Ron Weasley! You and Harry are going to drag us all down!

Jia Jia Siting will ace every subject—I tell you, even Nawei won’t fall far behind!

Only the two of you haven’t improved much and keep slacking off!”

After speaking angrily, Hermione walked over to En:

“En, could you show them your schedule from a while back?”

En stared at Hermione, teeth clenched; his engraved magical script hand froze for two seconds:

“Hmm.”

The wooden cabinet disdainfully spat out a notebook; Hermione caught it midair with the Levitation Charm.

“Sorry.”

En tapped his wooden cabinet with his wand; the cabinet shuddered as if humanly embarrassed.

Every time En placed a book inside, he performed Transfiguration on the cabinet—now it seemed to be gradually evolving toward the bizarre direction of magical chess pieces—in short, it appeared to have developed a degree of self-awareness.

Sometimes, when En was pondering which book to read, it would respectfully offer him one.

En guessed it was because he’d cast so many Transfigurations on it that its interior had accumulated too many conscious fragments, causing this change.

For example, a snowman that only rolls snowballs, throws them, or dodges isn’t strange at all.

But if it combines all those actions and engages wizards in a snowball fight, it becomes astonishing.

En’s cabinet was probably in a similar state.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been slacking off too much…”

As Hermione spoke, she showed Ron and the others the schedule.

On it, En spent three evenings a week brewing potions in the dungeon, two days attending Alchemy classes with upperclassmen, plus one additional private session.

Beyond that, En also went to the Forbidden Forest, the greenhouse, the Transfiguration office…

He even managed to carve out time for Alchemy and keep up with his History of Magic and Astronomy lessons.

“En—I mean, is he even human…?”

Ron stared, dumbfounded.

“Alright, Hermione, you’re right—looking at this, Harry and I really are slacking off… Merlin— I never thought I’d say something like this…”

He immediately corrected himself.

He now seriously doubted whether En even had time for regular classes.

“In the non-magical world, we call this time management.”

Jia Jia Siting explained with a smile.

He said this only because his own intensity wasn’t much less than En’s.

Alongside his rigorous studies, he handled organizing and selling the Green Notes, recording everyone’s progress in Hope Cottage, compiling questions, and storing summaries in the cabinet.

He bore the task of helping everyone in Hope Cottage learn from each other’s strengths, and naturally took on the responsibility of investigating Professor Qiluo’s motives.

As Ron shamefully overhauled his schedule, En suddenly recalled a phrase:

“Rest is for the dead.”

His gaze flickered.

Hogwarts had stopped snowing long ago, but the relentless rain still tapped against the castle’s stone walls.

En couldn’t stop moving, nor could he afford much rest—if he rested, death wouldn’t be hard when an emergency came.

When he stepped out of Hope Cottage, the enchanted mirror didn’t speak, leaving only En staring at those calm, deep green eyes—like gazing at a mirror made of Black Lake water:

“I know I can’t stop.”

He seemed to hear something, or perhaps it was only the howling wind.

Hagrid’s hut.

Fang barked wildly; Hagrid saw the red dot labeled “En” drawing nearer.

A red exclamation mark lit up beside it.

He grinned widely and marked En’s location with a yellow question mark, signaling he’d received the message.

Why yellow? Because it was only a semi-finished product—En hadn’t yet given it more functions, so he’d just slapped on a symbol as a placeholder.

This planning map was En’s gift to Hagrid, because Hagrid always lost track of magical creatures and was often in a state of “Where’s my magical creature?”

So when he attached a button to a magical creature—

He nearly hugged En in delight; En, barely escaping, gave Hagrid a look of mild confusion.

Hagrid was now thoroughly ashamed—he kept forgetting he was surrounded by young wizards.

For a week, whenever Hagrid saw En, he kept his hands behind his back, awkwardly expressing concern.

Now, Hagrid was sure he wouldn’t do anything foolish—he carefully rolled up the map and stepped out:

“En—come in quickly—”

Then the two began adjusting the flame’s temperature for the dragon egg, following the method described in *Breeding Fire Dragons for Fun and Profit*—proper temperature helps the dragon hatch faster.

Outside.

A cluster of young wizards’ figures drew closer.

“Hagrid always wanted a dragon—I first heard him say that to me when we met.”

Harry said, hopeful.

“But it’s illegal,”

Ron said,

“The Wizarding Congress passed a law in 1709 banning dragon breeding—everyone knows that.

If we keep a dragon in our backyard, it’s nearly impossible to avoid Muggles noticing—and you can’t easily tame them, it’s extremely dangerous.

You should see the burns on Charlie’s body—they’re from driving off wild dragons in Romania.”

“Do wizards really keep dragons?”

Jia Jia Siting frowned slightly; he thought wizards were too bold.

“Of course—wizards often cast spells on Muggles who see wild dragons, making them forget everything.”

Ron was proud to know this exclusive bit of information.

“I hope Hagrid remembers he lives in a wooden house.”

Hermione said, worried.

As they bickered, they entered Hagrid’s hut.

They saw En sitting elegantly on a chair crafted by Transfiguration, reading a book while roasting the dragon egg over a flame.

“En— you can’t eat that!”

Ron exclaimed.