Chapter 23: Fire Dragon Norbert

“I told you, all the professors were personally chosen by Dumbledore—no one would dare steal that thing!” Before he even reached the door, Harry heard Hagrid’s booming voice, nearly shouting.

He and Ron crept silently to the window, eavesdropping on the conversation inside.

“On Halloween night, Snape caught Quirrell—he even let me investigate…” Harry recognized the voice as Neville’s.

“First of all, no one can get past Fluffy. I’ve never told anyone anything.” Hagrid said confidently.

“But professors don’t need you to tell them Fluffy’s weakness,” a female voice said—somewhat like Hermione’s—“Snape can brew a Draught of Living Death, or some even stronger potion, to put Fluffy to sleep.”

“That still wouldn’t work. Other professors have set up their own traps. Hogwarts as a whole is protecting that object.” Hagrid’s voice had lost some of its earlier confidence.

“That’s exactly what we’re worried about,” Neville said. “Just now, coming from the Quidditch pitch, we overheard Snape and Quirrell talking—they seem to be teaming up.”

“No, you don’t understand how much Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape—and Dumbledore is always right,” Hagrid said.

“What about Voldemort?” Neville casually uttered the terrifying name again. “When Voldemort was at school, Dumbledore was already teaching Transfiguration, wasn’t he? He’s not omniscient—he can be deceived too—”

“That’s different!” Hagrid roared, cutting him off. “If Snape is teaming up with Quirrell, it’s definitely to protect the object! They must have found some trace of a villain trying to sneak into the school—it has to be!”

“Just as Hermione said,” Neville repeated. “Quirrell asked Snape how to get past the three-headed dog, and Snape said he could brew a Draught of Living Death. Then Quirrell asked if he knew what other professors had set up, and Snape said he didn’t know.”

“Quirrell threatened him,” added a voice Harry didn’t recognize. “He said, ‘You’re not planning to oppose me, are you?’ I’m certain they’ve studied those traps thoroughly—probably cracked at least half of them.”

“I told you—” Hagrid nearly roared again.

“Calm down, Hagrid, calm down,” Neville’s voice came. “We’re not trying to do anything—just hope you’ll help notify Dumbledore. We hardly ever see him, and on this matter, I think you’re the most trustworthy.”

“I don’t want to go to Dumbledore and badmouth others—even Quirrell and Snape, who aren’t popular.” Hagrid still sounded angry, but his lowered volume suggested he’d calmed somewhat.

“Just tell him exactly this: several students made reckless, groundless speculations and raised wild accusations,” Hermione pleaded almost desperately. “Tell him that. I’m sure Dumbledore’s wisdom—if he just pays a little more attention—will be enough to reassure us.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell him,” Hagrid said. “Consider it solving your boring little worries.”

“Thank you, Hagrid. We’ll be going now.”

Harry and Ron hurried to hide on the other side of the room—only to find someone already hiding there. The three stared at each other, but all wisely stayed silent.

After Neville left, Harry glanced over and saw that he’d come with Hermione and Hannah.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Harry said, seeing Ron’s wary expression and deciding to take charge of the conversation.

“I was following you,” Malfoy seemed nervous. “I heard you say you’re going to try out for Seeker next year, so I thought… well, I’d see what you were up to.”

“As you can see, I’m chatting over afternoon tea with this drunken servant who lives by the pitch,” Harry teased. “Probably not suitable for Lord Malfoy—let the commoner Potter handle it.”

“I see,” Malfoy’s expression darkened. “I was going to tell you—I’m also trying out for Seeker next year. That’s what I meant to say.”

“Do as you like,” Harry shrugged. “We can both try out. Maybe we’ll even meet on the pitch.”

“I’ll beat you. Only I can beat Harry Potter,” Malfoy said.

“Of course—Voldemort couldn’t do it, but Malfoy can,” Harry said flatly, then walked into Hagrid’s hut, leaving Malfoy stunned in place.

As soon as Harry stepped inside, he realized how unbearably hot it was—no wonder Neville had left right after finishing his business without lingering.

A fire burned in the hearth, and in its center lay something. Even though Hagrid had clumsily placed a kettle on top, Harry instantly recognized it as a black egg.

“What’s this? An egg?” Harry asked curiously.

“Ah!” Hagrid nervously tugged at his beard. “That’s, that’s—”

“A dragon egg? Awesome! Where’d you get it?” Ron crouched beside the fire, thrilled.

“Bought it,” Hagrid admitted honestly. “Last night, I went to the village for a drink and happened to meet someone selling one.”

“He said it was smuggled. I knew it was wrong, but I… I really,” Hagrid said, embarrassed, “I’ve dreamed all my life of raising my own dragon.”

“So what will you do when it hatches? Keep it?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I borrowed some books. Oh, Puss, move.” He pulled a book from under a small gray tabby cat. “Look, ‘Postnatal Care for Dragons’—no, wait, this one…”

“That little cat is adorable—I’ve never seen him before.” While Hagrid went back to searching through books, Harry stared at the cat.

“It was a free gift,” Hagrid said. “The man said carrying a cat made it harder to run away, so he gave him to me. He said his name is Puss.”

“Hello, Puss,” Harry was clearly more interested in the cat.

“I thought I could get Fang a companion,” Hagrid said, sounding disappointed. “But this little rascal is too mischievous—Fang’s even afraid of him.”

“No way?” Puss purred contentedly in Harry’s arms. “He seems pretty well-behaved to me.”

“I’m just thinking,” Ron said, “if you keep the dragon in your hut like this… it might be illegal, especially since it’s smuggled. You don’t want to end up in Azkaban, do you?”

“You’re not going to…” Hagrid pleaded anxiously. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Harry said. “Dumbledore won’t notice for a while. But I doubt he’s so old he can’t spot a dragon appearing in the school.”

“Yes, Norbert will grow,” Hagrid said, looking worriedly at the egg. “But I still have to hatch him first.”

“Then I’ll feed him a barrel of brandy and chicken blood every half hour,” Hagrid said, beaming with delight. “It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. I just need to add more charcoal…”

“Hagrid’s right—hatch it first,” Harry whispered to Ron.

“Hagrid, when it hatches, please invite us to watch,” Ron said, ignoring practical concerns—he was fascinated by the egg. “How many times in a lifetime do you get to see a dragon break out of its shell?”

“Of course, of course,” Hagrid murmured, gently nudging charcoal, not looking up.

As they were leaving, Harry noticed Puss still clinging tightly to the hem of his robe, so he bent down and picked him up again.

“I’m leaving now, little cutie,” Harry gently placed him on Hagrid’s table—but in a blink, Puss leapt onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Let him stay with you for a while,” Hagrid chuckled. “Puss seems to really like you.”

“Is that okay?” Harry also liked the adorable little tabby.

“Of course,” Hagrid said. “The school allows students to keep cats anyway. Good for Fang too—he can get some rest.”

Harry brought Puss back to the dormitory. The little cat was surprisingly clingy, clinging to Harry at nearly all times—but also remarkably well-behaved. If Harry had to go to class, after being picked off three times, Puss would jump onto the bed and sleep on his own.

On Monday evening, after dinner, Harry returned to his room for his books when Puss leapt onto him again. Harry wasn’t sure if cats were allowed in the library, but looking into Puss’s big, watery eyes, he decided to tuck him inside his robe and pretend to carry books as he left.

In the library, Zhang Qiu was there—and she seemed in good spirits. Harry whispered mysteriously to her, “Guess what I brought?”

As he spoke, he gently unfastened his robe—and out popped a small gray head, curiously looking around.

“What an adorable little thing,” Zhang Qiu said. “Let me hold him.”

“By the way, Hagrid got a dragon egg,” Harry said. “It might hatch soon—probably within a few days.”

“Hmm, I saw.”

“You went to Hagrid’s hut too?”

“No,” Zhang Qiu pointed to the bookshelf on the left. “I saw him borrowing a whole stack of books on dragon care. I figured he must’ve gotten a dragon.”

“That’s right. But unfortunately, this dragon won’t be staying long,” Harry said. “Ron told me private dragon ownership is illegal.”

“But private investment in dragon farms is permitted,” Zhang Qiu remarked. “After all, this is a capitalist society.”

Harry hadn’t heard that word in ages. He brightened. “Hey, you know that term too? I mean—can I call you ‘comrade’?”

“Of course, my dear dahvreech,” Zhang Qiu smiled. “Tianchao is part of the Communist International.”