Chapter 24: The Little Boy on the Bed

“Hey, do you think it’s possible to establish communism in the magical world?” Harry said enthusiastically.

“I think we’re not at the point of studying such questions,” Zhang Qiu reminded him. “What worries me more is that dragon—did Hagrid give it a name?”

“He said it’s called Norbert,” Harry replied warily. “Could it have appeared in the divination?”

“Hagrid got into big trouble to get Norbert, and you got caught out after hours trying to get rid of him,” Zhang Qiu said, concerned. “Though Master warned me not to tell you the divination’s contents, I feel being caught out after hours—or rather, I want to try—whether I can change fate.”

“I’ve noticed too—divination isn’t always accurate,” Harry said. “Your Master’s predictions are sometimes late, sometimes early, sometimes only partially fulfilled. I suspect it’s just a reference.”

“That’s true—he specifically corrected me that divination and prophecy are two different things,” Zhang Qiu said. “So, whatever you do, don’t risk yourself over Norbert. Other things are fine, but we don’t need to throw ourselves at the gun barrel, right?”

“Strictly speaking, the magical world doesn’t have guns,” Harry said. “Your phrasing is strange—is that a Tianchao proverb?”

“Yeah, similar ones include: knowing there’s a tiger on the mountain but still climbing up, or insisting on taking risks until you see the coffin meant for your corpse before realizing the danger—stuff like that.”

“That’s fascinating—tell me more…”

When Harry finally remembered he still had homework to finish, they’d already wasted over two hours chatting, and Pei Xu had kept his ears perked up as if he understood every word.

Harry stroked Pei Xu’s small head, placed him on his lap, and began writing his Transfiguration assignment. The second half of the term was nearly over—he needed to start preparing for finals.

A few days later, Harry received a note from Hagrid during lunch break: the dragon was about to hatch, and he invited them to watch.

This time, Zhang Qiu joined the group to watch. She said a dragon’s birth was a major event—she absolutely had to be there.

As soon as class ended, the three rushed to Hagrid’s hut. The half-giant waved from afar; when they drew closer, he eagerly ushered them inside.

The egg sat on the table, its surface split by a deep crack. Something inside wriggled, emitting strange, muffled sounds. They pulled chairs up to the table and watched, tense.

Suddenly, a burst of clattering noise came from within, and the shell cracked open. The dragon plopped onto the table. It wasn’t cute. Harry thought it looked like a crumpled black umbrella. Its tiny wings were disproportionately large compared to its slender body; its nostrils were wide, a pair of bumpy horns rose from its forehead, and its eyes bulged outward, glowing orange.

It sneezed, and two streams of sparks shot from its nostrils.

“How beautiful,” Hagrid whispered, reaching out to tap its head. Norbert instantly bit his finger, revealing two tiny fangs.

“It must think I’m its mama,” Hagrid said.

“I’m wondering,” Harry asked, “how fast does a Norwegian Ridgeback grow?”

Hagrid was about to answer when his face suddenly paled. He leapt up and rushed to the window. “Who’s there?” he demanded nervously.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Hagrid,” came a voice. The window opened, revealing half a head topped with pale gold hair—it was Malfoy.

“I was just curious—wondering what interesting thing Harry was seeing here,” Malfoy said, caught red-handed but seemingly unbothered. “Now I see—it’s a dragon. That’s actually pretty cool.”

“You won’t snitch, will you?” Hagrid eyed him warily; in his mind, Slytherins were mostly scoundrels.

“Of course not,” Malfoy said confidently. “But I’d bet you anything—within a month, this little hut won’t be able to hide it. What will you tell Dumbledore then?”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. He’s too small—letting him go now would kill him,” Hagrid said, gazing adoringly at Norbert. “You don’t want to leave Mama, do you?”

Harry remembered Zhang Qiu’s warning. He disliked Malfoy’s arrogant, pretentious air despite having no real ability, so he said with ill intent: “That’s right, Hagrid. But you’ll have to send him away eventually. I suppose the Malfoy family has a dragon breeding ground, right?”

“Of course—in Romania,” Malfoy said proudly. “My father owns thirty percent of the shares. Sending one dragon in is no problem.”

“Then let Norbert stay with Mama a little longer,” Harry proposed a compromise. “When Hagrid can no longer hide him, I hope Lord Malfoy will lend a hand and quietly send this little cutie to a suitable place.”

Hagrid readily agreed—he was delighted. As long as he could spend more time with Norbert, he didn’t care about anything else.

Malfoy, strangely, also seemed pleased—perhaps because he’d successfully shown off his family’s dragon breeding ground in front of classmates? Or maybe he felt he’d accomplished something Harry Potter couldn’t?

“You’re so mean, Harry,” Zhang Qiu whispered with a chuckle as they left.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked, confused.

“Zhang Qiu’s divination told me that sending off the dragon Norbert would get me caught out after hours,” Harry whispered. “So let Malfoy send him. Maybe he’ll get caught too.”

“Great idea—you’re brilliant,” Ron grinned mischievously. “Better yet—if he gets caught after delivering the dragon, we’ll have two things to celebrate at once.”

“The divination specifically said: ‘Because he was overjoyed after sending off the dragon, he didn’t notice Filch lurking in the corner,’” Zhang Qiu added willingly.

“Filch!” Ron exclaimed. “That’s the worst possible outcome—getting caught by Filch is the absolute worst.”

“Your divination was that detailed?” Harry asked, surprised. It had always been vague before.

“Hard to say—it’s strange,” Zhang Qiu pulled out her small notebook filled with square characters. “For small matters, the time and place are always precise—and they always come true. But for bigger events, it’s extremely vague, and the people are always referred to by placeholder terms.”

She flipped to the last page and showed it to Harry. He couldn’t understand a word.

“This page records the final event of this school year: ‘The Resurrected Harry strikes in fierce form, defeating the treacherous double-faced man under the witness of the old bee. Rejoice, Gryffindor, favored by all, shall claim its first glory.’”

“That reads like an epic poem!” Ron exclaimed. “But who’s the double-faced man?”

“I’d like to ask—what does ‘fierce form’ mean?” Harry said helplessly. “And does anyone really favor Gryffindor?”

“For me, these cryptic divinations about major events are,” Zhang Qiu shrugged, “every character is clear, but together they make no sense at all.”

“Exactly right, Zhang Qiu,” Ron agreed. “That’s how I feel about textbooks too.”

Days passed quietly again. Harry watched Norbert grow larger each day, calculating when to send him off, eagerly awaiting Malfoy’s humiliation.

But on a Wednesday night, Harry and Ron stayed too long watching Norbert at Hagrid’s and forgot the time. When they hurried to the Astronomy classroom, they realized they’d left their textbooks behind.

“I’ll allow you to return to your dorms for your books,” Professor Sinistra said generously.

When Harry and Ron burst back into their dorm, panting, they froze: a naked little boy lay on Harry’s bed, legs in the air, playing with a pillow.

Harry barely caught sight of his silvery-gray hair before the boy’s body shrank rapidly—then transformed into a tabby cat, leaping straight onto Harry’s chest.

“Pei Xu?” Harry stared at the familiar small head on his chest.

In response, he received an innocent gaze.

“Don’t think I didn’t see anything,” Harry tapped his forehead. “We’ll discuss this after class.”

Pei Xu obediently curled back onto Harry’s bed, then slipped under a pillow, leaving only his tail twitching outside.

“That’s incredible—I mean, turning between human and animal?” Ron blurted as soon as they stepped out.

“Didn’t your brothers ever mention it?” Harry said. “It’s called Animagus—a highly advanced form of Transfiguration.” He liked explaining the unknown with known knowledge—it was a habit he’d developed in Physics class.

“And many upperclassmen know it too,” he added. “Professor McGonagall is an Animagus—she can shift freely between human and cat.”

“But Pei Xu looked almost our age when he turned human—eleven years old and already an Animagus? Is that normal?” Ron questioned.

“That might involve blood curses,” Harry said sadly. “Some children with extraordinary Transfiguration talent are born able to become Animagi. But the consequence is often they can’t tell whether they’re human or animal. Pei Xu might be like that—that’s why we’ve always treated him as a cat.”

“Blood curses?” Ron’s tone held a hint of awe. “You know a lot.”

“I read it in the library. Blood curses are tragic events—and no cure has been found yet.” Harry’s mood wasn’t good; the night’s events had left him unsettled, and he overlooked the fact that this knowledge had come from the Restricted Section.