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Chapter 24
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It was the weekend, and Hogwarts was unusually quiet at night. A full moon hung high above the castle, its soft glow spilling across the grounds. Every so often, an owl glided by or a night cat let out a lazy meow. Everything felt calm and peaceful.
But in a basement beneath Hogsmeade, something very different was happening.
"Damn it," Malfoy muttered under his breath.
The gentle, golden liquid inside the crucible began to boil violently. Bubbles churned up from the bottom. The potion shifted from gold to an odd pink, then bright red, and finally a deep black. The reaction intensified rapidly—more like a raging ocean than a bubbling brew. Bubbles burst one after another with sharp pops.
"Two months of work. Ruined in a single day." Malfoy stared at the darkening mess and sighed. One glance told him everything: he had failed one-third of the way through brewing the Spirit Blessing Potion.
"What went wrong?" He dropped onto the floor and frowned, lost in thought—so lost that he forgot the pot was still boiling.
A crackling noise pulled him abruptly back.
"Protego!" The spell jumped from his lips on instinct. His gut told him that if he didn't cast it, he'd become the first transmigrator to die in a magical lab accident.
A split second later—BOOM.
The cauldron exploded with a violent blast that shook the entire basement. The shockwave flung him into a corner as dust rained down from the ceiling.
Cough, cough.
Malfoy pushed himself up, waving dust away, looking at the wreckage and the potion splattered everywhere. He gave a stiff, miserable smile.
"Aren't you supposed to dispose of chemicals properly after an experiment…?" The random comment popped into his mind. He groaned and held his forehead—not sure whether the pain came from the explosion or his own stupidity.
"There's no helping it. I'll have to use it." His eyes suddenly sharpened, like a hawk spotting prey.
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Easter break at Hogwarts was far duller than Christmas. Homework piled endlessly, final exams loomed, and most students buried themselves in revision.
But the Gryffindor trio… was not studying.
To be precise, something had lured them away from their books: a dragon.
Just a short while earlier, they were together in the library. Hermione had drawn up a detailed revision schedule, color-coded all her notes, and even written motivational lines on the first page—such as I must surpass a certain someone. Harry was searching through A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi for information on dittany, while Ron had given up completely. He tossed his quill aside and stared out the window, where the sky was bright, clear, and impossibly blue—summer creeping into the breeze.
Under normal circumstances, the three would have spent the day like this: Hermione working, Harry trying, Ron pretending.
But today was anything but normal.
"Hagrid? What are you doing here?!" Ron blurted out in the quiet library.
Hagrid awkwardly tried to hide something behind his back—utterly pointless when you were half-giant. They quickly realized he was researching… dragons.
Naturally, they followed him to his hut at the edge of the grounds. They held back their curiosity for a moment to ask about the Philosopher's Stone.
Hermione, armed with logic and persistence, managed to coax all the information out of Hagrid—Snape was one of the protectors, along with the three-headed dog, and their suspicion of him only grew. If Snape helped guard the Stone, it would be easier for him to steal it.
But that was not their main concern anymore.
"Hagrid, can you open a window? I'm roasting alive," Harry complained.
"No, Harry, sorry," Hagrid said quickly—far too quickly. Harry caught the glance he cast at the fireplace.
"Hagrid… what's that?" Harry asked, though he already knew.
There, nestled under a kettle, was a large black egg.
"Ah—well," Hagrid stammered, tugging on his beard. "I… won it."
"Where did you get it?" Ron squatted by the fire, staring at the egg in awe. "That must've cost you a fortune!"
"Won it," Hagrid insisted. "Down in the village last night. Played cards with a stranger. Honestly, he seemed pretty eager to get rid of it."
"But what will you do when it hatches?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, I've been reading," Hagrid said proudly, pulling a massive book from under his pillow. "Raising Dragons for Pleasure and Profit. Bit outdated, but very thorough. Says here you keep the egg in the fire—mother dragons breathe fire on 'em, y'see. And once it hatches, you feed it a bucket of brandy and chicken blood every half hour. Look here—how to tell the eggs apart. Mine's a Norwegian Ridgeback. Rare, that is."
Hermione's instincts screamed illegal. She wanted to talk him out of it, but Ron and Harry were far too excited, and Hagrid looked like a proud dad. She swallowed her protest. She'd learned from the Wingardium Leviosa incident that she needed to be more tolerant of her friends.
Thinking of friends, her mind drifted—Was she also a friend to him?
"Hermione? Hermione?" Ron waved her over. "Don't just stare—come look at the egg! Bet you've never seen one this big."
"All right…" Hermione forced herself to look. Oddly enough, the idea of new life forming inside made her dislike it a bit less. It was even… a little heartwarming.
Twilight crept across the hut, and they realized how late it was.
"We'd better go, Hagrid," Harry said.
"We'll come back!" Ron added, waving enthusiastically.
"Me too," Hermione said softly.
The next morning during breakfast, Hedwig swooped in and dropped a short note into Harry's hands. Only four words:
Almost out of the shell.
Ron immediately wanted to skip Herbology and run straight to Hagrid. Hermione refused.
"Ron, how many times in our lives will we see a baby dragon hatch?"
"We'll get into trouble! And Hagrid will get into worse trouble than us—"
"Stop," Harry hissed.
Even in Herbology, Ron continued arguing until Hermione finally relented: they'd go during the morning break.
The moment the bell rang, the three dropped their tools and sprinted across the grounds toward the forest.
Hagrid met them outside, flushed with excitement.
"It's about to hatch!" he said, ushering them inside.
The egg lay on the table, split with a deep crack. Something tapped playfully from within.
They gathered close, holding their breath.
With a sharp scrape, the egg burst open. The baby dragon rolled out awkwardly. It was not pretty—Harry thought it looked like a wrinkled black umbrella. Massive spiky wings, a skinny body, long snout with white nostrils, and bulging orange-red eyes.
It sneezed, sending sparks flying.
"Beautiful, isn't he?" Hagrid breathed, stroking the creature's head.
The dragon promptly bit his finger.
"See? He knows his mum!" Hagrid said joyfully.
"Hagrid," Hermione asked, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?"
Hagrid opened his mouth—then froze, face turning pale.
"Someone's outside the window."
He leapt up, blocking the light entirely.
When the door swung open, Ron and Harry's expressions shifted instantly. Hermione pressed her lips together.
"You—! You were eavesdropping!" Ron raised his wand, though his hands trembled. Under normal circumstances he'd never dare threaten Malfoy, easily the strongest student in their year—but he had no wand, and a wandless wizard was practically a Muggle.
"Don't come closer!" Ron barked.
Malfoy ignored him and walked in.
A jet of green light shot from Ron's wand as he shouted, "I won't let you get away with this!"
"No!" Hermione cried, but neither Harry nor Hagrid reacted. They were frozen in shock.
"I hate when people point wands at me," Malfoy said calmly.
"Protego."
The spell slammed into an invisible barrier and shot back twice as fast.
"Ron! Are you okay?" The spell struck Ron, sending him stumbling back. Hermione and Harry rushed to steady him.
Harry glared at Malfoy.
"Don't look at me like that," Malfoy said. "I was defending myself. If I hadn't, I'd be the one on the floor right now."
Ron suddenly burped—and slugs splattered onto his robes.
Malfoy continued, unfazed. "Only Dark wizards point wands at people who don't have one. Same way a real army doesn't attack civilians with butcher knives—they fight real opponents." He paused thoughtfully. "Though apparently even a 'civilian' like me is stronger."
Clearly improvised nonsense, but it sounded convincing enough.
"You were spying on us first!" Harry shouted, though uncertain.
"A law-abiding citizen reports illegal activity," Malfoy replied smoothly. "Let's see… what does the Magical Creature Protection Act say…?" He tapped his chin. "Unauthorized dragon-keeping: five to ten years in prison. And with our dear Keeper's criminal record, he might get more."
Hagrid's beard trembled.
"As for the accomplices," Malfoy added lightly, "well… expulsion is likely. Gryffindor's points would plummet."
Harry paled. Expulsion was worse than death to him.
"So… are you going to report us?" Hermione asked quietly. She sounded calm, but her knuckles were white.
"He's not like that… he's not like that…" she repeated in her mind.
"Ha—" Ron began, but another wave of slugs hit the floor. "Hermione, don't bother. He's Snape's student. It's all a plot."
"Langlock," Malfoy said lazily.
Ron's mouth sealed shut. His cheeks ballooned as more slugs built up inside. His throat swelled—his breath caught.
"You'll kill him!" Hermione cried. "Please—stop—undo it!"
"Finite," Malfoy said softly.
Ron instantly vomited a pile of slugs and collapsed, panting.
"To most people, death is the greatest fear," Malfoy said coldly. "Consider this a lesson: don't interrupt when I'm speaking."
"What do you want?" Harry asked, voice tight.
"A deal. Fair deal—but you'll probably call it blackmail." Malfoy shrugged.
"What deal?" Hermione asked quickly.
Malfoy didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on Hermione, making her squirm.
What does he want…? Her cheeks warmed. No, impossible…
"I want a bottle of dragon blood," Malfoy finally said.
Hermione exhaled in relief—though strangely, there was a faint disappointment too.
"You can't!" Hagrid suddenly wailed, clutching the baby dragon. "He's only a child!"
"Then I'll just do my civic duty and report the crime," Malfoy said, turning to leave. "Young Pioneer spirit and all that."
He paused. "Oh, right. Britain doesn't have Young Pioneers."
"I'll agree," Harry said quickly.
"Harry—how can you—" Ron croaked, almost recovered.
"We don't have a choice," Harry whispered. For once, Gryffindor's bravery wasn't recklessness. It felt almost like Slytherin decisiveness.
Malfoy extended a hand. "Happy cooperation."
Harry reluctantly shook it. "Happy… cooperation."
"My father will send someone next week. By then, the dragon will be bigger. Make sure nothing happens," Malfoy said.
"We're not like you," Ron snarled.
"Heh. Good. Then things will go smoothly." Malfoy stepped outside, paused, and added, "One last reminder: it's a dragon."
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