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It was a quiet weekend night at Hogwarts. A full moon hung over the castle, scattering silvery light across the grounds. Occasionally, an owl glided past, and the distant cries of prowling cats echoed faintly through the air. The scene was peaceful, tranquil—almost serene.
But not far away, in a cellar beneath Hogsmeade, something was about to explode.
"Damn it," Malfoy muttered under his breath.
The golden liquid in his cauldron began to churn. Bubbles swelled and burst—first pink, then red, then an ominous black. The reaction grew violent, the surface roiling like a stormy sea. The bubbles multiplied, bursting with sharp little pops.
"Two months of work, gone in an instant," he sighed. The potion was a failure—and it was supposed to be Felix Felicis.
"Where did I go wrong?" He sat heavily on the floor, rubbing his temples, trying to recall each step. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the cauldron still bubbling dangerously.
A strange hissing sound snapped him back.
"Protego!" he shouted instinctively, raising his wand. His gut screamed danger—and he was right.
A thunderous boom shook the cellar. The blast hurled him against the wall; dust and smoke filled the air.
Coughing, Malfoy pushed himself up, brushing grime from his robes. The cauldron lay overturned, black potion seeping across the floor. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"'Chemicals should be recycled after an experiment,'" he muttered. "I'm really getting sloppy." He rubbed his aching forehead—was it carelessness or the explosion that had rattled him?
Then his eyes sharpened again, glinting like an eagle sighting prey. "No choice," he murmured. "I'll just have to try again."
The Easter holidays were dull compared with Christmas. Students were buried in homework, and the looming final exams left little room for leisure.
Yet the Gryffindor trio were not studying in the library that morning. In fact, they weren't studying at all—they were chasing after a dragon.
It had begun in the library. Hermione was revising, color-coding her notes and scrawling small words of encouragement—Must surpass someone—across the top of her parchment. Harry was flipping through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, searching for "moly," while Ron had abandoned his quill entirely, staring dreamily out the window. The sky outside was a brilliant, forget-me-not blue, hinting at summer's approach.
Under normal circumstances, diligence and laziness would each take their course, and the day would pass quietly. But today was far from normal.
"Hagrid! What are you doing here?" Ron blurted out when he saw the half-giant shuffle into the library, awkwardly trying to hide something behind his back. The effort was useless; moments later, they discovered he was researching dragons.
Soon they followed him to his hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
At first they questioned him about the Philosopher's Stone. Hermione, ever perceptive, managed to extract the truth after a few clever questions: Snape was among the professors guarding the Stone. The information only deepened their suspicions of him.
But Hagrid's nervous glances toward the fireplace quickly drew their attention elsewhere.
"Hagrid, could you open a window? It's stifling in here," said Harry.
"Can't, Harry, sorry," Hagrid replied, eyes darting to the hearth.
Harry followed his gaze—and saw it.
"Hagrid… what's that?" he asked, though he already knew.
In the center of the fire, under the kettle, lay a large, black egg.
"Ah," said Hagrid, tugging at his beard, "that's—er—"
"Where'd you get it?" Ron crouched by the fire, eyes wide. "Must've cost a fortune!"
"Won it," said Hagrid proudly. "Down in the village last night. Got into a card game with a stranger. He seemed happy enough to get rid of it."
"But what'll you do when it hatches?" Hermione asked, alarmed.
"Well, I've been doin' some readin'," Hagrid said, producing a massive book from under his pillow. "Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit. Bit outdated, but it's got the basics. Keep the egg in the fire—mothers breathe on 'em, see—and feed the baby every half hour with a bucket o' brandy and chicken blood. And this here tells you how to recognize eggs. Mine's a Norwegian Ridgeback—rare, they are."
Hermione's instincts screamed illegal. She wanted to object but, remembering past quarrels, forced herself to stay quiet. Friendship, she reminded herself, sometimes meant tolerance. Yet her thoughts drifted to someone else—Am I his friend too? she wondered.
"Hermione? Come on, stop daydreaming!" Ron called. "You've gotta see this egg—it's enormous!"
"Right," she murmured, forcing a smile. Curiosity crept in despite herself; the thought of new life stirred something gentle inside her.
The sun was already sinking when they finally left Hagrid's hut.
"We'll come again," Ron promised.
"Me too," Hermione added softly.
Days later, during breakfast, Hedwig swooped in with a note from Hagrid. It held only four words: It's hatching.
Ron immediately wanted to skip Herbology. Hermione refused.
"Hermione, when else will we ever see a dragon hatch?" he pleaded.
"If we skip class, we'll get caught—and if anyone finds out about Hagrid's dragon, he'll be in real trouble—"
"Quiet," Harry warned.
Ron argued all through class until, at last, Hermione relented. As soon as the bell rang, the trio dropped their trowels and sprinted across the grounds toward Hagrid's hut.
"It's coming out!" Hagrid beamed, ushering them inside.
The egg lay cracked open on the table, rocking gently. They leaned in, holding their breath. With a final sharp scrape, the shell split apart.
The creature that emerged was anything but cute. Harry thought it looked like a crumpled black umbrella. Thin, scaly wings flared awkwardly; its nose was long and narrow, and its orange eyes bulged like lanterns.
It sneezed—sending sparks flying.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid whispered, reaching out to stroke it. The baby dragon bit his finger.
"Oh, look! He knows his mum!"
"Hagrid," Hermione asked cautiously, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?"
Before he could answer, his face went white.
"Someone's at the window."
The door burst open.
"It's you!" Ron shouted, raising his wand instinctively.
Malfoy stepped inside, unarmed but composed.
"Don't come any closer!" Ron warned, voice shaking but firm.
A wandless wizard is almost helpless—or so many believed. Ron fired a Stunner.
"Protego!"
The spell struck an invisible barrier and rebounded with doubled force. The green light hit Ron squarely, knocking him backward.
"Ron! Are you all right?" Harry and Hermione rushed to his side.
"I hate it when people point wands at me," Malfoy said coolly.
"Just self-defense. If I hadn't blocked it, I'd be the one coughing up slugs."
As if on cue, Ron gagged and spewed several slimy slugs onto his lap.
"Only dark wizards attack someone without a wand," Malfoy continued. "A proper army doesn't turn butcher knives on civilians—it faces equals." He smiled faintly. "Seems this 'civilian' is a bit tougher than expected."
"You were eavesdropping!" Harry shouted, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.
"A law-abiding citizen must report illegal acts," Malfoy said smoothly. "Now, let's see—what does the Magical Creatures Protection Act say? Ah yes—private dragon breeding earns five to ten years in prison. And since our dear groundskeeper already has a record…"
Hagrid's beard twitched. He hadn't moved since Malfoy entered.
"As for accomplices," Malfoy mused, "perhaps expulsion? Gryffindor's points would drop nicely."
Harry's face drained of color. To him, expulsion was worse than death.
"So you're going to report us?" Hermione asked quietly. Her fingers clenched until her knuckles turned white.
"Don't ask him!" Ron croaked, spitting more slugs. "He's Snape's stooge—there's a trap—"
"Langlock."
Ron's mouth sealed instantly. His cheeks ballooned; his throat swelled.
"You'll kill him!" Hermione cried, tears in her voice.
"Finite."
Ron collapsed, gasping, as a torrent of slugs spilled out. Terrified, he stared at Malfoy and quickly looked away.
"For most people, death is the greatest fear," Malfoy said coldly. "Even the Dark Lord fears it. Remember that—and don't interrupt when others are speaking."
"What do you want?" Harry demanded.
"A deal," said Malfoy. "Or coercion, if you prefer."
"What kind of deal?" Hermione asked.
He didn't answer immediately. "Norwegian Ridgebacks grow fast," he said instead. "In a week it'll be twice its size. This hut won't hold it, and an untamed dragon can cause real devastation."
They all fell silent.
"Remember the troll? A grown Ridgeback would make that look like a kitten. When that happens, Hagrid won't be sent to an ordinary prison—it'll be Azkaban."
Hagrid staggered, his face ashen.
"And if the destruction's severe enough," Malfoy went on, "they'll put the dragon down."
"No!" Hagrid roared. "Norbert's just a baby!" He dropped to his knees, clutching his head.
"I can help you," Malfoy said calmly. "For a small price."
"What price? How can you help?" Harry asked quickly.
"To show good faith—I'll tell you first. My father has investments everywhere, including a dragon reserve in Romania. He holds shares there. Send the dragon—he'll be safe."
"How do we know you're not lying?" Ron muttered.
Malfoy sighed. "I'm truly saddened by Weasley intelligence. If I deceived you, couldn't you simply report me? Think—what does your brother Charlie do?"
"Charlie's there too," Hagrid said, startled. "He told me—he's workin' with dragons in Romania." His voice trembled. "But—I can't part with Norbert." Tears welled in his eyes; seeing the giant man weep made Malfoy uncomfortable.
"What do you want?" Harry asked again, lower this time.
Malfoy's gaze lingered on Hermione. Her heart skipped. What is he thinking? Her cheeks flushed despite herself.
Then he said, "I only need a bottle of dragon's blood."
Hermione exhaled, half relieved, half uncertain.
"No! You can't take his blood—he's just a child!" Hagrid protested, clutching Norbert tightly.
"Then I'll simply fulfill my civic duty," Malfoy said, turning toward the door. "Exposing the evil forces of Hogwarts." He chuckled. "Oh, right—England doesn't have Young Pioneers, does it?"
"I agree," said Harry suddenly.
"Harry! You can't—" Ron began.
"We have no choice," Harry said firmly. Gryffindor courage wasn't just recklessness; it was resolve.
Malfoy smiled faintly and extended his hand. "Pleasant cooperation."
"Pleasant cooperation," Harry echoed, shaking it.
"My father will send someone within a week," Malfoy said. "By then, your dragon will have grown considerably. Keep things quiet—don't let anything go wrong."
"We're not like you," Ron muttered.
"Heh. Let's hope so," Malfoy replied, stepping out into the night. "And one last thing—remember, it's a dragon."
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