"Norbert, Henry, I—" Hagrid pushed open the door, face glowing. "What's that, Henry?"
He pointed at the strange, shifting, fabric-textured thing on the dining table. The dragon had buried itself inside, digging and biting, whimpering as it burrowed deeper. Only a black tail showed—nearly blending with the black fabric.
"That's my robe," Anthony said. "At least, it was half an hour ago."
"Norbert. Norbert." Hagrid closed the door, called softly. "Come out. Give Henry his robe back, you little tyrant."
Norbert's response: a loud snort.
The hole-riddled robe immediately puffed out another wisp of smoke. When it cleared, the hatchling's lean, slender snout poked through a freshly burned irregular hole. It bared a row of tiny white fangs threateningly at Hagrid and Anthony.
"No, Norbert," Hagrid said. "That's Henry's robe. You like clothes? I have—" His gaze swept the hut, searching for a suitable substitute. But Hagrid's daily wardrobe didn't include much soft, thin black fabric.
"Forget it, Hagrid," Anthony said. "I've got several more just like it."
"That won't do, Henry," Hagrid said stubbornly. "You've already helped us so much. Ah, how many boxes of rats?"
Anthony glanced at the crates. "A bit over one box. I fed it twice."
"Let it have some brandy," Hagrid said, stomped to the cupboard, pulled out a large bottle, unscrewed it.
POP. The hatchling clawed at the robe, burned another hole in front of itself.
It stuck out its large snout, white nostrils flaring, head raised, carefully distinguishing the fruity wine scent in the air. Then it wobbled out. But its wings and bulging belly got stuck in the hole. Impatiently it struggled hard. With an ominous ripping sound, the black cloth slid off. The hatchling spread its wings. Shook them victoriously.
"Oh dear!" Hagrid said. "You're the worst dragon in the world, Norbert! Look what you've done to Henry's robe!"
He poured brandy into a small teapot, fed it to the dragon through the spout. The dragon clutched the spout, nearly wanted to bury its entire nose inside.
Hagrid signaled Anthony to quickly take the robe. But the moment Anthony approached the black cloth, the dragon angrily gripped the spout, flapped its wings, tried to return to guard its territory.
Hagrid held it firmly in his arms. Let it clang and chew the iron teapot spout, flattening the pitted surface.
"Really, Hagrid, forget it," Anthony said. "Fang has a patchwork bed. Norbert probably wants to decorate its sleeping teapot too."
"You're too kind, Henry," Hagrid said, moved. "Want some brandy yourself?"
After the students left, professors gradually prepared for the holiday too.
Professor Burbage left the same day as the students, suitcase in hand. Before leaving, she reminded Anthony about the Muggle Studies Society's summer conference schedule. She told him to attend if interested. If not, at least show his face on the day she was presenting.
Besides Professor McGonagall, who always stayed at school, Professor Flitwick was staying too—continuing to monitor Roger's injuries.
The dead skin on Roger's neck had started peeling. He complained the new skin always itched, couldn't help scratching. So even though it was summer, Madam Pomfrey required him to wear mittens daily.
However, since he was the only student on campus, the house-elves devoted all their energy and enthusiasm to satisfying his requests. Madam Pomfrey allowed him three ice cream scoops per meal. Now he woke up every day thinking about how to choose combinations from over a hundred fifty flavors.
Professor Sprout spent some time transplanting the Devil's Snare occupying an entire room into a special greenhouse.
"Growing beautifully!" she said happily. "Next year we might even get Devil's Snare fruit."
"It flowers too?" Anthony asked, surprised.
Snape snorted coldly. "No, Anthony. It lays eggs."
Professor Sprout ignored Snape, continued with Anthony: "Of course. When I was in school, there was a Devil's Snare flower cultivation competition every five years! The competition stopped years ago... Someone bred a fire-resistant variety. Nearly strangled a judge to death. Though that variety's red flowers were quite lovely."
"What color do Devil's Snare flowers usually bloom?" Anthony asked.
"White, probably. Some think they fade after dying," Professor Sprout said. "Standard varieties prefer dark, damp environments. Close up when exposed to light. So no one's recorded their actual color... But they're very fragrant."
Anthony didn't have much to take home. Except for two pets, he could leave almost everything at school. In that Muggle neighborhood house, he had plenty of Muggle clothes. Didn't think he needed any wizard robes in his trunk.
Just as he thought this, that water-like midnight blue robe slid out from the bottom of the wardrobe.
Though this Christmas gift was signed Neville Longbottom, he seemed unaware his grandmother had sent Anthony such an expensive gift. Before leaving, he'd secretly left a gift box at Anthony's office door—a very small potted plant. Professor Sprout told him it was Dittany. Neville had grown it himself in the greenhouse.
"Remind me next Christmas to give you One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi," she'd said. "I asked about Dittany on the first-year final."
"How did Longbottom do on his Herbology final?" Anthony asked curiously.
"Excellent," Professor Sprout said. "Though Minerva sometimes says Longbottom doesn't have his parents' talent, he got an O in Herbology. I remember when Alice was in first year, Herbology was only an E for her."
"That's wonderful," Anthony said.
Just as Anthony prepared to leave, something happened. Hagrid's hut nearly burned down.
The dragon kept growing. Anthony kept telling Hagrid he couldn't keep a dragon in his teapot forever—no matter how large he made it. Since the dragon was gradually growing up, he needed to send it away soon.
Hagrid stubbornly believed Norbert was still a baby. So Anthony told him babies need to interact with other babies. A dragon without its own kind might feel depressed and irritable.
Maybe dragons don't like creatures with too much hair. Including humans. Maybe that's why Norbert bit Fang's tail.
Anthony hadn't expected this reasoning to inspire Hagrid into a genius idea: pretend a Salamander was a wingless dragon.
Norbert despised this dubious companion. After burning three chairs, it finally breathed out a long, long exhalation, engulfing the Salamander sprawled dumbly in the firelight.
The Salamander danced wildly in the Norwegian Ridgeback's flames. One became two. Then dozens, hundreds. Soon crawled all over the hut.
Meanwhile, Anthony was breaking dry bread into small pieces, tossing them to the lazy Giant Squid. Heard Fang barking. Looked up.
Firelight shone through Hagrid's hut windows. Hagrid shouted inside, trying to calm Norbert. Fang barked loudly outside, rattling his chain.
"Good God! Hagrid!" Anthony ran to the hut. "Can you hear me?" He knocked on the door. Could feel the hut was unusually hot inside.
The Giant Squid extended a tentacle, rolled away the large bread he'd dropped. Sank down contentedly.
"I'm fine, Henry!" Hagrid said. "Cough, cough—I'm playing with Norbert!"
Black smoke poured through the door cracks. "Hagrid, come out first!" Anthony shouted.
"Norbert, no!" Hagrid yelled.
From the firelight, the dragon hadn't listened. The hut's windows rattled. Then BANG—shattered. Several Salamanders crawled out, stared dumbly as the pumpkin leaves in front of them curled from the heat.
Anthony circled around, stood on tiptoe, looked through the window. Except for the stone table still standing in place, everything in Hagrid's hut had changed.
The cupboard was charred black. The bed was engulfed in firelight. The carpet crawled with Salamanders—each healthy, robust, wreathed in flames, using Hagrid's carpet as fuel. Hagrid stood in a sea of fire, trying to shake three Salamanders off his calves.
The black dragon flapped its wings, tail curled, wobbled through the air, breathing fire downward. Hagrid's large hands waved in the air with whooshing sounds, trying hard to catch it.
"Aguamenti!" Anthony shouted.
With a soft hiss, the water jet from his wand evaporated into steam. Several Salamanders' skin instantly turned ashen, collapsed on the carpet into damp ash. But the sea of fire kept producing more Salamanders.
"Hagrid, use your wand!" Anthony said. "You're a wizard, remember?"
Meanwhile, he couldn't help missing fire trucks.
"My wand, my wand..." Hagrid said. "My wand got burned! Oh, Norbert!" He pulled a small umbrella from the fire. Now burned down to just the frame. Hagrid shook it. "Aguamenti!"
"It's Aguamenti not Agua-circle!" Anthony said, brushed aside the Salamanders on the windowsill, vaulted into Hagrid's house.
"Sorry," Hagrid said in a muffled voice. "I was never good at Charms."
He raised the umbrella frame, wanted to try again. But then his bed collapsed. The spell's second half turned into an exclamation. The wand—that umbrella—drew a strange arc in the air.
With an explosive sound, a bizarre rhino stood in the middle of the hut. Hagrid's stone table was perched on its back.
"Aguamenti!" Anthony said. He was standing on the stone table. Now had to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling.
Norbert wobbled over. CLANG—crashed into the chandelier.
Three Aguamenti spells later, Anthony remembered to use household magic to make the faucet turn itself on. The faucet exploded with spray. Every Salamander that crawled into the sink turned into a handful of ash-mud, washed down the drain. Anthony hoped the wizarding world had spells for unclogging pipes.
Norbert hung itself on the chandelier, wobbling, trying to brew its next breath of fire.
"You've caused enough trouble," Anthony said, pried it off the brass fixture. The dragon angrily tried to bite him. But Anthony took off his hat, enlarged it slightly, tossed Norbert inside.
"Norbert!" Hagrid shouted.
"Norbert's fine," Anthony said, held the hat in his hand. The dragon was whimpering inside.
With the faucet's help and dozens of Aguamenti spells, the Salamanders finally stopped their mad reproduction. Hagrid contributed too—he smashed open the water pipe passage. His hut filled with steaming white vapor. Like a sauna.
Everything gradually calmed. Only the water pipe still diligently sprayed water, hissing. Water flooded over the nearly-burned carpet, over the threshold, flowed out under the door crack.
"Reparo."
The water stopped. Hagrid stood barefoot in the middle of the house, looked at Anthony on the stone table on the rhino's back. Looked uneasy. "Oh, Henry..."
Anthony jumped down from the table, slid down the rhino's back to the ground. Splashed water. "Excellent. Fire and brimstone from heaven. Floods on the earth. Hagrid, I declare your hut a place of sin."
"What?" Hagrid said, confused.
Anthony shook the heavy hat in his hand. "And this is the source of sin. Hagrid, you really need to send it away. The Weasleys' second son studies dragons, I think. I can ask him for you."
"No!" Hagrid said. Tears rolled from his eyes. "It's all my fault! Because I let the Salamanders out, Norbert got upset! It's just a baby. It doesn't understand anything."
"Oh, Hagrid." Anthony stared at the big man in shock. "Don't cry. Didn't you say you always knew this day would come?"
"But not—not this soon!" Hagrid sobbed. "It hasn't grown up yet! It could have grown bigger than my house!"
"You see—it's a dragon. It was never meant to be kept by humans in a wooden hut. If it can grow bigger than your house, you should send it away even sooner," Anthony said. "It's still the holiday. You can even personally deliver it to where Charlie works, all right? Though I forget exactly where... I'll need to write and ask."
"It's so small! Without me, it really has no mother!" Hagrid wept. "No mother dragon, no Rubeus-mum either. What will it do! I at least had a father—"
The rhino lowered its head. Drank some water. The stone table slid off its back. Shattered.
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