Chapter 28: Over Drinks, Hagrid Wins a Dragon Egg
The shack sweltered like midsummer. Hagrid blamed Fang's cold feet.
"Really?" Ron said. "Looks like he's cooking."
"Ahem—Fang's not like other dogs…"
Harry, body hot with training, was drenched. "Brother, why is the fire stoked so high? We'll be steamed crabs."
He went to rake the flames down—
"Ah! A big egg! Roasting it for dinner?"
In the grate, amidst blazing logs, lay a black iron-like egg.
Ron peered. "Roast egg? Perfect—Harry and I haven't had lunch—one egg for three though?"
"Wait! Not for eating—my pet, not yet hatched."
"What sort of bird needs hatching in fire? Not the phoenix in Dumbledore's office?"
"Harry, I couldn't manage a phoenix. Most people never see one."
Ron's eyes went wide. "Hagrid—you've got a dragon?!"
Caught out, Hagrid flailed. "What? Dragon egg? No, you're mistaken."
"It is! If I'm not wrong, a Norwegian Ridgeback—or a Hungarian Horntail."
Harry stared. "Brother, when did you learn all this?"
"Oh, my brother Charlie's work in Romania is dragons. He shares stuff."
Unable to deny, Hagrid slumped. "All right—it's a Norwegian Ridgeback. But you mustn't tell anyone."
In the wizarding world, dragons were not the Emperor's four-clawed kind but fire-spitting terrors—iron hide like plate, talons like hooks, wings shadowing the sun—requiring a dozen wizards with fierce spells to subdue.
Harry had heard; now he saw an egg and was keen.
"Where'd you get it? If someone has connections, let me keep one too."
"Not easy to get." Hagrid chuckled. "I was lucky—like quaffing a whole bottle of Felix Felicis."
He'd been in Hogsmeade drinking, met a cloaked stranger who talked magical beasts as if old friends. They drank and gambled; the stranger lost everything and staked the egg.
Harry itched. "Brother's luck is grand. Dice and cards—I'm handy too. Next time you see him, introduce me."
"No gambling!" Hagrid protested. "And he never showed his face—always hooded."
No face—Harry stiffened. The Gringotts thief and the troll-herder hadn't shown their tails; now a hooded stranger near the school? Suspicious.
"Could you tell his voice? A stammerer?"
"Low and rough, but not like Quirrell's stutter."
"And his build? Any odd features?"
Ron caught on. "You think the man who lost the egg is the thief after the Stone?"
At the word "Stone," Hagrid blanched and nearly leapt up. "How do you know! Who told you!"
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry said. "But set that aside—tell us about the stranger."
Ron nodded. "Yes—this is fishy. Norwegian eggs are rare—money may not buy one."
Worried by their grave tones, Hagrid recounted the meeting.
A verse:
Hogsmeade tavern, a stranger cloaked,
Masking his face in blackness soaked.
They spoke of beasts through drunken mist—
Not half a word of the Philosopher's Stone was hissed.
Harry and Ron listened, thought hard, and found no thread.
"What do you think?" Ron asked.
"I'm a rough man, not good at inference," Harry said. "If only Big Sis the Strategist were here."
Fearing Harry's anger if he refused again, Hagrid fretted. Ron changed the subject. "Hagrid, you know keeping dragons is illegal? The 1709 summit banned private dragons."
"It's fine. It's only a baby; growing takes time."
"And when it grows? Ridgebacks grow fast—three times their size in months.
"And if you're caught, not only you—Ministry will execute the dragon."
That pierced Hagrid's soft heart. He wavered.
"No trouble," Harry said. "If private keeping is banned, make it public. If asked, say the school ordered it captured."
"Good idea!" Hagrid brightened—and dimmed. "But why would Dumbledore agree?"
"Don't worry. Tell him: 'You owe Harry a life; use this dragon to repay it.'"
Because the troll had nearly killed Hermione; their oath bound Dumbledore. Hagrid and Ron didn't know of it and gaped.
"Harry—Dumbledore owes you a life?"
"That's not something to joke about," Hagrid said.
"Would I lie to you?" Harry smiled.
With no better plan, this debt-prick was Hagrid's last hope. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know how to repay—"
"You and I are brothers—no thanks. If you must, tell me where the Stone is."
"No! I promised Dumbledore." He winced, fearing Harry's wrath. "I'll handle the egg myself."
Harry frowned. "Brother, would you take me for less than kin?
"A promise is gold. You're a man of your word. I won't force you to break it."
A verse:
Hagrid keeps his oath like a mountain,
Duty and friendship on one fountain.
Harry's heart is broad as sky—
A western Meng Chang, loyalty high.
The words thundered; Hagrid flushed with shame for measuring a hero with a petty heart. He begged pardon.
Harry laughed. "You're refined—I'm rough. Better to share a bowl of wine than a thousand words." He pulled a flask.
Hagrid, moved, took down a cured ham, hacked a platter of meat, and set the table.
"You're right, Harry—let's drink!"
"To a brother!"
"Cheers!"
They drank the spirits dry and gnawed the meat clean. Sated, Harry and Ron bowed and left.
A week later, the holiday ended; students returned. Harry laid a feast to welcome Hermione back.
Now that Hermione had learned to balance honor and loyalty, she didn't fuss about the contraband wine—she even took a sip.
"Whew—spicy."
Harry and Ron laughed.
After three cups and five dishes, Harry told of the cloaked man. "We ham-fists thought for days and saw no path. Big Sis, please infer, and tell me if the stranger stinks of crime."
Hermione listened, thought, and said, "If he's the thief, then the Stone must be guarded by a magical creature."
"How so?" Harry asked.
"He approached Hagrid to get intel, yet they only discussed beasts. That means the Stone is connected to one of the beasts they mentioned."
The right craft to the right hand. In a few words, Hermione made the light break. Harry poured her a drink. "Your wits shame Zhang Liang and Fan Li," he praised.
She didn't know those names but liked the praise. "All we need is the creature's size and where it could hide, and we'll find the Stone."
Harry, who had abandoned the hunt, now rekindled it. They studied beasts by day and searched by night.
But lessons pressed; the stairs played tricks; Harry's temper boiled—Dumbledore barely kept him from chopping wood.
Then a letter from Hagrid arrived by Snow-White, four words only: He is hatching.
Who else but the dragon?
That very evening they rushed to Hagrid's. It was more tightly sealed than ever.
Inside, Hagrid wore a vest and still sweated. "You're just in time; miss this and you'll never see it."
The black egg cracked and clicked.
"I've never seen a dragon," Hermione said, bright-eyed. "What will you name it?"
"Norbert if boy, Norberta if girl."
A screeching peel; the shell split and a hatchling crawled out.
Iron-black, gaunt like a scorched spear. Spiny wings like an iron parasol. Knobbled head and round, uncanny eyes. A yaksha from the underworld—an ominous star bursting through Heaven's Gate.
Palm-sized but vicious. Hagrid stroked; it mouthed his finger.
"Oh, look—he knows his mum."
With milk-teeth it couldn't hurt; Hermione, charmed, reached out. "He's licking me."
The dragonlet sneezed; sparks shot from its nostrils.
Fire was its nature. With no teacher, it cocked its head and spewed a narrow flame at Hermione's face. She couldn't dodge; a lock of hair curled.
Seeing the beast's wildness, Harry rose with a roar. "Vile whelp! Dare harm my Big Sis!"
A verse:
Dragonlet bares its little fangs,
A half-yard flame-tongue bursts and bangs.
Hermione's tress is singed and brown—
Steel flashes; Harry cuts it down!
Would the dragon live? Wait and see.
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