“Still there.”
Ron stepped away from the door to the forbidden corridor and rejoined Harry and Hermione. They had taken to listening for Hagrid's dog every time they passed the door. It was two weeks after the match against Hufflepuff, and so far Professor Quirrell hadn't cracked, although he looked worse every time they saw him. Harry gave the Defence teacher encouraging smiles every time they met and Ron actually told people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.
Hermione, however, had other things on her mind. Just the day before she had realised that exams were only ten weeks away. The Philosopher's Stone had driven them completely from her mind, something she regretted immensely. She had immediately started to draw up revision schedules for herself and colour-coded her notes. Harry and Ron, of course, were far too lazy to do anything of the kind, despite her nagging. If they kept up the way they were going, they would fail the exams and would have to repeat the first year, and where would she be then?
“Hermione,” Ron had said exasperatedly, “the exams are ages away.”
“Ten weeks. That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel.”
“But we're not six hundred years old. Anyway, what are you revising for, you already know it all.”
“What am I revising for? Are you mad? You realise we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's got into me...”
Harry and Ron usually reacted by rolling their eyes and continuing to do exactly what they were doing before.
The teachers, at least, were on Hermione's side. They piled loads of homework on them, especially for the Easter holidays. Hermione would have preferred to follow her own schedule, but at least the homework forced Harry and Ron to do the work, too.
Indeed, after pestering them long enough, they eventually gave in to her and spent their time with her in the library, doing their work, even though they kept complaining. The bad weather was a help, though. On the first beautiful day for month, Harry and Ron were even more unwilling than usual to study.
“I'll never remember this,” Ron declared in the afternoon, throwing down his quill and staring longingly out of the window.
“Hush,” said Hermione absently. Madam Pince strictly enforced the silence in the library.
“Hagrid!” Ron suddenly called. “What are you doing in the library?”
Hermione looked up. Hagrid was coming out from between the rows and wandered towards them. He very poorly tried to hide something behind his back.
“Jus' lookin',” he said. None of them believed him. You could always tell when Hagrid was lying.
“An' what're you lot up ter?” Suspicion crossed his face. “Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?”
“Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,” Harry told him. “And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-”
“Shhhh!” Hagrid cut him off. He looked around for listeners. “Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?”
“There are a few thing we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact,” Harry skipped in, “about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy -”
“SHHHH!” repeated Hagrid, sounding like a waterfall. He looked truly horrified. “Listen – come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -”
“See you later, then,” said Harry merrily and Hagrid left.
“What was he hiding behind his back?” mused Hermione.
“Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?”
“I'm going to see what section he was in,” said Ron, jumping readily at the excuse not to work. A minute later he was already back, carrying a stack of books and unloading them on the table.
“Dragons,” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide.”
“Hagrid's always wanted a dragon,” said Harry, “he told me so the first time I ever met him.”
“But it's against our laws,” said Ron. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that.”
Hermione hadn't known, and once again she wondered why Ron didn't apply himself more to school work; he would do so well.
“It's hard to stop Muggles noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous,” he continued. “You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania.”
“But there aren't any wild dragons in Britain?” said Harry.
“Of course there are,” said Ron impatiently. “Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our lot have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget.”
“So what on earth's Hagrid up to?” said Hermione. Even she had enough of studying for the day and a new mystery was perfect for relaxing.
An hour later they wandered down to Hagrid's hut. They found all the curtains closed, something that was very unusual. They knocked.
“Who is it?” came Hagrid's voice from inside.
“Just us,” Harry called.
Hagrid opened the door and pulled them inside before quickly closing the door again. It was terribly hot inside, the heat held up by a blazing fire. They accepted the tea Hagrid offered, but knew better than to accept his sandwiches.
“So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?”
“Yes,” said Harry, straight to the point. “We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy.”
All he got was a frown.
“O' course I can't,” Hagrid said. “Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy.”
The direct approach hadn't worked, but Hermione had expected that and had spent most of the last hour thinking about a way to get information. She made her voice as flattery as she could and said, “Oh, come one Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here.”
Hagrid's beard twitched as he smiled and Hermione knew she was getting through.
“We only wondered who had done the guarding, really.” She was almost there. “We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”
She could see Hagrid's chest swelling at the flattery. She could also see the boys giving her appraising looks and her own chest swelled a bit, too.
“Well,” Hagrid said slowly, “I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that ... let's see ... he borrowed Fluffy from me ... then some o' the teachers did enchantments ... Professor Sprout – Professor Flitwick –“ he was counting them on his fingers, “Professor McGonagall – Professor Quirrell – an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape.”
“Snape?”
“Yeah – yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it.”
The Trio's eyes met and they silently agreed. Snape probably knew all the protections and how to get past them – except, apparently, Fluffy and whatever Professor Quirrell did.
“You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?” asked Harry, voicing their common fear. “And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?”
“Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore,” said Hagrid proudly.
“Well, that's something,” Harry told Ron and Hermione in a low voice, then continued loudly, “Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling.”
“Can't, Harry, sorry,” Hagrid answered, looking at the fire for a moment. They all turned their heads towards it.
“Hagrid – what's that?”
It was a useless question. That was a large, black egg lying in the hottest part of the fire, and there could be no doubt to which animal the egg belonged. Nonetheless, the question made Hagrid very nervous and he fiddled with his beard as he answered.
“Ah ... that's ... er ...”
Ron had leapt up and was crouching near the grate.
“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” he said. “It must've cost you a fortune.”
“Won it. Las' 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 ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”
“But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?” said Hermione.
“Well, I've bin doin' some readin'. Got this outta the library – Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here – how ter recognise diff'rent eggs – what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare them.”
He looked very pleased with himself. Hermione furrowed her brow. Aside from being illegal, a fire-breathing dragon would cause other problems.
“Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,” she said, but he didn't listen. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.
Hermione had to take back her earlier words about a mystery being relaxing. It had only given them another thing to worry about.
“Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life,” Ron sighed one evening. The homework load had increased further and the boys were struggling to keep up. They hadn't appreciated the revision timetables Hermione had made for them either. But she was ready to put up with that as long as they actually followed them and passed the exams. They could thank her later. She knew that they probably wouldn't, though.
One morning, Hedwig, Harry's owl, delivered a short note from Hagrid.
It's hatching.
“Let's go,” Ron said immediately. Hermione stared at him in disbelief.
“What about Herbology?” she asked.
“We'll skip it. This is more important.”
“Are you mad? We can't just skip a lesson.”
“Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?”
“We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing compared to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -”
“Shut up!” Harry broke in. Hermione whipped around. Malfoy was standing close, delight on his face.
They didn't talk until they were out of the castle and on their way to the greenhouses.
“Look, let's just go,” Ron said quietly. “We've got Herbology twice a week. We don't have Care of Magical Creatures until third year even if we choose it, and even then we surely won't ever see this.”
“But people will be wondering where we are,” Hermione retorted. “What are we going to say then? 'Sorry, we've been watching Hagrid's dragon hatch?'”
“We can make up a story. We have a lot of time.”
They kept arguing until they reached the greenhouses.
“Look, it doesn't matter, because Professor Sprout has already seen us,” Hermione said. “We can't skip Herbology now.”
“Then let's go during the break. Come on, Hermione, just during the break. Maybe we're lucky. It's History of Magic after that, Binns never notices if anyone is late anyway.”
“Fine,” Hermione gave in. “But just during break.”
At the end of the lesson they rushed off to Hagrid's hut as fast as they could.
“It's nearly out,” said Hagrid in greeting, pulling them inside. The egg was lying on the table, cracks running across the shiny surface. It wobbled and noises could be heard from inside. They drew chairs around the table and waited. Hermione was suddenly glad that she let Ron convince her.
The constant clicking suddenly stopped. Then, with the sound of ripping paper, the egg cracked and fell open. The baby dragon flopped down on the table. Its wings were still crumpled and wrapped around the body, which looked small in comparison. It stretched and Hermione could see its head, which had huge orange eyes, a long snout and tiny horns. All in all, the dragon looked like a miniature version of a full-grown one, in perfect proportion. Which made Hermione wonder if it was already capable of breathing fire. The dragon answered the unspoken question when it sneezed and a couple of sparks flew out of its huge nostrils.
“Isn't he beautiful?” Hagrid sighed, looking at the dragon as if it was a cuddly dog puppy. Which to him it probably was, Hermione reminded herself. But still, it was a dragon. It snapped at the hand with which Hagrid was trying to stroke it, and Hermione could see that it already had sharp teeth in its mouth. Dragons were counted among the deadliest beasts on earth for a reason.
“Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!” said Hagrid.
A question was bothering Hermione.
“Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?”
Hagrid didn't answer. He suddenly stared out of the window and went pale. He leapt up and made two quick strides to the window.
“What's the matter?” Harry asked.
“Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains – it's a kid – he's runnin' back up ter the school.”
Harry ran to the door and stuck his head outside. His grey face as he pulled it back in told them enough.
“Malfoy.”
The only good news was that Malfoy had not gone straight to a teacher. Instead he smiled evilly at them every time they met, something that made the three of them very uneasy. They spent the free time in their schedules with Hagrid, trying to convince him to give the dragon up.
“Hagrid, you can't keep the dragon,” Hermione told him. “It's illegal, he will set the house on fire and he'll attack you eventually. Once he's large enough, and at the rate he's growing it won't be long 'til then.”
“He won't attack me,” Hagrid said stubbornly. “He knows me. Where's your mummy?”
The dragon shot a small jet of flame at Hagrid, nearly setting his beard on fire.
“He's just playing, Hermione,” Hagrid said soothingly. Hermione shook her head and left.
“We've found a way,” Ron told her two days later. The boys had been at Hagrid's hut without her, as she had wanted to finish a long essay for Professor McGonagall. The boys' essays were, as always, exactly as long as requested and not one inch longer. But essays were driven from Hermione's mind at the good news. “And we've convinced Hagrid of it,” Ron continued. “We're going to write to my brother – in fact, we've already written to him, Harry's gone up to the owlery to send the letter – anyway, we're asking him if he can take the dragon. He can take care of it.”
Hermione's heart lightened.
“Will he do it?”
“Charlie? I'm sure he will. All we need is a way to get Norbert to him.”
“Norbert?”
“Yeah, that's what Hagrid called his dragon. He's raving mad.”
Norbert grew larger. He had gone from brandy and chicken blood to rats. Lots of rats. They were taking turns in helping Hagrid feed the dragon.
Wednesday night was Ron's turn. Harry and Hermione were sitting in the common room, waiting for his return. It was drawing close to midnight and everyone else had gone to bed already.
The portrait opened and Ron appeared out of nothing, pulling off Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
“It bit me!” he spat, holding up his hand. It was wrapped in a handkerchief, the blood soaking through. “I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby.”
Any attempts to answer his tirade were cut off by a tap on the window.
“It's Hedwig!” said Harry, leaping up to open the window. “She'll have Charlie's answer!”
The owl glided in and landed on the table between Ron and Hermione. Hermione untied the message from the owl's leg and they leaned together to read it.
Dear Ron,
How are you? Thanks for the letter – I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.
Send me an answer as soon as possible.
Love, Charlie
They traded looks.
“We've got the Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “It shouldn't be too difficult – I think the Cloak's big enough to cover two of us and Norbert.”
Hermione didn't disagree. Anything was acceptable if they would get rid of Norbert, and besides, Hermione knew that by “two of us”, Harry meant him and Ron. She didn't mind being left out of that adventure.
Ron came into the Common Room the next morning with what looked more like a club than a hand. He didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey for fear that she would recognise a dragon bite, but eventually he had no choice. It seemed that Norbert's fangs were poisonous, for by the afternoon, the hand had turned sickly green.
They went to visit him in the evening. He was lying in the bed, looking very pale.
“Incredible animal, isn't it?” Harry asked him quietly. “Sharp teeth, fire breath, claws and now he turns out to be poisonous too. Next time we meet him he'll be able to kill with a look.”
Ron smiled weakly.
“It's not just my hand,” he whispered, “although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me – I've told her it was a dog but I don't think she believes me – I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this.”
“Malfoy's a git,” said Harry. “He'd be doing this no matter what.”
“It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday,” said Hermione, trying to calm Ron down. She failed miserably. Ron sat up quicker than she'd have thought him capable of.
“Midnight on Saturday!” Ron gasped. If he hadn't been ill he would surely have shouted. “Oh no – oh no – I've just remembered – Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert.”
Before they could answer, Madam Pomfrey sent Harry and Hermione out of the hospital wing, saying that Ron needed sleep.
With Ron being sick, the task of carrying Norbert fell to Hermione.
“It's too late to change the plan now,” Harry told her. “We haven't got the time to send Charlie another owl and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that.”
They went down to Hagrid to tell him that Charlie had agreed to take Norbert. Apparently Ron wasn't the only victim of Norbert's teeth: Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, was sitting outside the hut, his tail in bandages.
Hagrid didn't let them in. Instead he opened a window to talk to them.
“Norbert's at a tricky stage – nothin' I can't handle.”
They told him about the letter. Norbert chose that moment to attack Hagrid.
“Aargh!” Hagrid called, his eyes filling with tears. “It's all right, he only got my boot – jus' playin' – he's only a baby, after all.”
It seemed that the baby was about to bring the hut down, banging its tail against the walls, but there was no use in arguing with Hagrid.
Hagrid was in tears on Saturday night, when they came to get Norbert. They would have felt sorry for him, but they felt more sorry for themselves, for what they had to do. It was just as well that they hadn't had classes that day; Hermione would have been completely unable to concentrate.
They were already late. Peeves had been in their way, playing tennis against the wall in the Entrance Hall. Norbert was packed in a large crate, ready to be carried away.
“He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey,” said Hagrid sadly. “An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.”
Judging from the ripping noises from inside the crate, Norbert would be without his teddy bear on the journey.
“Bye-bye, Norbert!” sobbed Hagrid at last. “Mummy will never forget you!”
They covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and stepped under it. The crate was heavy. They were out of breath by the time they reached the castle, but they still had to carry the crate to the highest tower. Step by step they heaved the crate up the marble staircase, then another staircase, along a corridor and another staircase. Harry picked out shortcuts and easier stairs whenever he could, but it helped very little. Hermione found herself blinking back tears of frustration.
Eventually they reached the last corridor.
“Nearly there!” said Harry between heavy breaths. Only the tower itself remained.
Something moved ahead. They nearly dropped the crate. Quietly as they could, they shrunk back into the shadows. Only then did Hermione remember that they were invisible. Ahead of them two people were struggling. Then a lamp flared and cast its light on the scene.
Professor McGonagall was there, wearing a tartan dressing-gown and a hairnet, her lips pressed together hard. And she was holding Malfoy by the ear.
“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -”
“You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!”
“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”
She dragged him away, and Harry and Hermione seemingly floated up the last stairs. On top of the tower they took off the cloak. Hermione felt so happy that she hopped around the tower.
“Malfoy's got a detention! I could sing!”
“Don't,” said Harry, grinning widely.
They settled to wait. Suddenly the fun of adventure was back. They were almost done, and it hadn't been that hard.
Charlie's friends arrived ten minutes later. They had set up a harness between their four brooms, in which they fastened the crate.
They said their goodbyes with much laughter, and Harry and Hermione gave their thanks, and then watched the dragon get smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared.
They practically bounced down the staircase. Bounced directly into something terrible, something that made Hermione's heart drop like a rock.
Filch was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, and the Invisibility Cloak was still on the top.