An hour later, they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut.
Hagrid first called out, "Who is it?" and only after getting a response did he let them in, quickly turning to shut the door behind them.
As soon as they stepped inside, they immediately noticed that all the curtains had been drawn shut. Despite it being a warm, sunny day, the fire in the fireplace was blazing, making the hut so hot it felt almost suffocating.
Marcel walked in and glanced at the burning pile of embers in the fireplace. He had already guessed it. The reason Hagrid had made the place so hot was obviously to hatch a dragon egg. Sure enough, a large, black egg was nestled among the glowing red coals, an empty kettle hanging above it.
Hagrid made them tea and brought out a plate of stoat sandwiches. The trio, however, had no appetite and politely declined. Marcel, on the other hand, thanked Hagrid and picked one up to taste.
"So—you have somethin' to ask me?"
"Yes," said Harry. He saw no reason to beat around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone besides Fluffy."
Hagrid frowned at them.
"O' course I can't," he said. "First, I don't know myself. Second, you know too much already, so I wouldn't tell you if I could. That stone's here for a good reason. It was almost stolen from Gringotts—I s'pose you've worked that out an' all? Beats me how you even know about Fluffy."
"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you know everything that goes on around here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice.
Hearing that slightly unnerving tone, Marcel couldn't help but recall his own miserable experience trying to butter up the Grey Lady. He looked up, first at Hagrid, whose beard was bristling with pride from the praise, then at Hermione, who was putting on an innocent act.
"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."
Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione.
"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt to tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the other teachers did enchantments."
"Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall—" he counted on his fingers, "—Professor Quirrell... an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Wait, I've forgotten someone... Oh yeah, Professor Snape."
"Snape?" Harry said in astonishment.
Marcel swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and dusted the crumbs from his hands. "Obviously, there's nothing strange about it. Apart from Professor Quirrell, the other four are all Heads of House. It's perfectly normal, isn't it?"
"See? Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about to steal it," Hagrid added.
Marcel looked at the disbelieving faces of Harry and Ron. He knew this was all because Harry's father, James, had gone too far in tormenting Snape back in the day, which had directly led to Snape targeting Harry at every turn.
"And only you know how to get past Fluffy, right, Hagrid?" Harry asked eagerly. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"
It seemed Harry had already gotten some information.
"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.
Harry couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. "Hagrid, can we open a window? I'm boiling."
"Can't, Harry, sorry," Hagrid said, his eyes unconsciously flicking toward the fireplace.
Now, everyone had clearly seen it.
"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron asked, crouching by the fire to get a closer look at the big egg. "It must have cost you a fortune."
"Won it," said Hagrid. "Last night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad to get rid of it, ter be honest."
"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.
"Hagrid is obviously doing his research. You all saw him in the library, didn't you?" Marcel said with a smile. "Hagrid, when this little fellow hatches, remember to tell me right away."
"Oh, you like him too, do you? Of course, I'll tell you," Hagrid said, smiling happily. He continued, "I've been lookin' it up. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione was not convinced. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.
But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming happily to himself as he poked the fire.
"But I have to say, Hagrid, you need to hide it well," Marcel said, his tone suddenly turning serious. "You should know that raising a dragon privately is against the law."
He paused, and seeing that Hagrid didn't seem too concerned, he continued, "Baby dragons grow very quickly, and they learn to fly instinctively at a very early age. Have you thought about where you're going to hide it? You can't hide it in this hut. I don't want to see you and it get taken away together. I want to watch it grow up."
Hagrid looked a bit downcast at these words. To be honest, he also knew he couldn't keep it forever.
"Ron, I remember your brother Charlie works at a dragon reserve in Romania, right?" Marcel asked, turning his head.
"Oh—yes, I think that's a good idea," Harry said, catching Marcel's meaning. "Hagrid, Ron's brother Charlie studies dragons over there. There's a dragon sanctuary. He'll take good care of it for you!"
"Oh, no, I can't bear to part with the little one," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes vigorously. "He hasn't even seen me yet."
Harry and the others looked at each other, about to continue persuading Hagrid, but Marcel held up a hand.
"Before we contact Charlie, I think you'll get to see him. After all, your incubation method is correct. It will hatch soon," Marcel said with a smile. "You can raise it for a while. I mean, before it gets too big for your hut."
"Yes, yes, I think that's not a bad idea," Hagrid said, gazing at the dragon egg in the fireplace with tender eyes, as if looking at his own child.
Not long after, during breakfast one day, his owl Malfurion brought him a crumpled note with only a few words written on it: It's hatching.
During the lunch break, Marcel grabbed some food from the dining table and, carrying a large cloth bag, sauntered towards Hagrid's hut.
"You're here, Marcel!" Hagrid looked extremely excited, his face flushed as he beckoned him over. "You're a little late, you missed him breaking out of the shell. But don't worry, the little fella's full of spirit now, much livelier than when he first hatched."
Marcel was excitedly pulled into the hut by Hagrid, only to be met with a face full of thick, black smoke laced with sparks.
"This little one has a strong aggressive instinct. Looking at it this way, perhaps it's a female," Marcel said, drawing his wand and waving away the smoke in front of him.
"Oh, but I think he's a male. Look how handsome he is," Hagrid said, his eyes practically sparkling. It was clear he truly loved these powerful magical creatures.
Marcel didn't pay any mind to Hagrid's differing opinion, because it was indeed difficult to determine the sex of a newborn dragon.
He nodded casually, watching the little dragon propped up by its wings as it crawled around by the fireplace. He said thoughtfully, "Dragons are difficult creatures to tame. They become very intelligent as adults, and most importantly, their attacks are very powerful."
As he spoke, he took a potion vial filled with a viscous, fiery red liquid from the bag he had brought and swirled it in his hand. The bottle was not small; to be honest, it was quite heavy to carry in his robe.
"What's that? Dragon's blood?" Hagrid asked.
"No, it's not," Marcel shook his head. "This is made from the blood of a Fire-horned Whale... Mmm, a very tempting snack—at least for a Norwegian Ridgeback."
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Marcel placed the bottle on the table, uncorked it, and cast a Levitation Charm, controlling a small glob of the faintly glowing red liquid to hover steadily at the tip of his wand.
The little dragon immediately caught the scent and crawled over excitedly, pawing at Marcel's leg and trying to jump up to reach the tempting food.
But Marcel pressed it firmly to the ground.
He looked up at Hagrid and said, "If its mother were a real dragon, this is what she would do. Watch closely, Hagrid."
With that, Marcel swallowed the viscous, hot, and blood-scented liquid in one gulp.
Instantly, the little dragon started chirping and struggling, but Marcel held it firmly to the floor.
"This stuff is very nutritious, but it tastes awful to humans," Marcel said, his face turning a little green. "And it's really hot!"
Hagrid had clearly understood Marcel's intention. He nodded seriously, as if trying to memorize every step.
When the little dragon slowly stopped struggling and looked at Marcel with longing, he relaxed the hand that was pressing it down.
"Have a taste, little one," he said, levitating another small glob and controlling it to float towards the dragon's mouth.
"Hagrid, you have to do this every day until it remembers the feeding order," Marcel said. "If it can learn this before Charlie takes it away, it will remember you for the rest of its life."
"Of course, this will only make it remember you. In fact, most dragon species live alone after reaching adulthood and are not very friendly even to their own mothers. It's their nature."
These dragon-taming methods were all things he had seen in Ravenclaw's secret chamber. Besides what he had shown Hagrid, there were actually follow-up training methods, but they were not very humane, and he was sure Hagrid would not approve of them.
"That's brilliant! If Norbert remembers me because of this, I'll be sure to thank you properly, Marcel," Hagrid said, giving Marcel a huge hug that nearly suffocated him.