Chapter 44
They had thought everything would go smoothly: on Friday evening, Gray and Ron would carry Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower, hand her over to Charlie's friends, and she would be flown all the way to Romania.
But on Thursday morning, Hagrid sent a letter to Gray. Something had come up in the Forbidden Forest—they needed to visit the centaur tribe the next day. Could Harry and Ron look after Norbert instead?
Gray explained the situation to the trio. Harry and Ron had no objections; in fact, Ron was thrilled. He had wanted to be part of it all along, and originally the plan had been for Harry and Gray to handle the handover.
At midday, however, Ron came running back from Hagrid's hut clutching his hand, his face twisted in pain.
"Norbert—she bit me," Ron said.
His hand was wrapped in a handkerchief soaked with blood, though the bleeding had mostly stopped.
"I was just helping prepare her food. You see, Gray got kept behind by Professor Binns, Harry had Quidditch practice, and Hermione still had homework to finish—so I had to do it."
In response to their questions, Ron explained.
Hagrid was probably still out in the forest; Ron hadn't seen Fang anywhere.
"But after I mixed the chicken blood and brandy for her, she wouldn't touch it. Just lunged and bit my hand instead." Ron held out his right hand. There was a clear tooth mark.
Gray examined it. The wound wasn't deep at all; it looked as though Norbert had barely scraped him—or hadn't meant to bite hard.
"You're definitely leaving something out," Hermione said, hands on hips, glaring at Ron. "Norbert wouldn't hurt anyone without reason. She's gentle and obedient—she just doesn't like strangers getting too close."
"But she's a dragon," Ron shot back. "Dragons are supposed to be vicious by nature." His eyes slid away from the three of them, drifting anywhere else.
"Norbert doesn't hurt people," Gray said firmly.
It wasn't until the four of them went to Hagrid's hut together that afternoon—when they finally found Hagrid—that the full story came out.
When Ron had arrived that morning, Norbert had been curled up asleep on the floor. Knowing she was leaving tomorrow, Ron had decided that before she went, he wanted to pat her—just once. That way, when he told George and Fred about it later, he'd have proper bragging rights.
He had even dug out one of Hagrid's old cameras, planning to take a photo as proof. Then George and Fred could never call him a liar.
But the moment he tried to lift one of Norbert's forelegs to pose her for the picture, she woke up suddenly. In the startled struggle, her sharp teeth raked across his hand.
"You brought it on yourself," Hermione said, cradling Norbert's head protectively. "And then you lied about it and blamed her."
"But she's leaving tomorrow! If I don't get some kind of proof, when I tell George and Fred I looked after a dragon, they'll never believe me. They'll just say I'm making it up." Ron's voice was urgent.
Of course he liked Norbert—but part of the thrill was that, apart from Charlie, none of his other brothers had ever actually seen a dragon up close. It gave him a rare chance to feel superior to them.
A photograph would make it impossible for them to doubt him. Even Percy had nothing like this to brag about.
He wanted so badly to outdo them that even the Mirror of Erised had seen it.
"Well, now you've got your evidence," Hermione snapped. "Go ahead and tell them your hand was bitten by a dragon—and the wound's still fresh."
"Of course I won't say that," Ron muttered. "I'll say it was Fang." He knew better than to spill everything while Norbert was still here.
At first they all thought it was just a scratch and nothing serious. But by evening Ron's hand had swollen to twice its normal size, and the wound, once bright red, was turning an ugly shade of green.
Norbert's teeth carried venom—or at least, like most dragons, they secreted a mild toxin.
That night Ron ended up in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey applied a greenish salve to the wound and bandaged his hand heavily.
Of course, when she asked what happened, Ron insisted it had been Fang who bit him. Whether Madam Pomfrey believed him was another matter.
"Looks like I won't be able to help send Norbert off tomorrow night," Ron said gloomily, holding up his bandaged, mummy-like hand. "I can't even grip anything with this."
"It's all right," Harry said quickly. "Hermione and I can manage it between us."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
None of them noticed the shadowy figure slipping quietly out of the hospital wing doorway, footsteps light and almost cheerful.
The next morning, Malfoy—unusually—stepped directly into Gray's path.
"Gabin—if I remember correctly, you're on Forbidden Forest patrol duty Friday night, aren't you?" Malfoy asked, his tone oddly expectant.
Gray looked at him, puzzled by the question.
"What do you want?" The words appeared in glowing points in front of Malfoy.
"Oh, nothing at all," Malfoy said smoothly. "I just thought I'd check on you. I've heard there's been some trouble in the forest lately. Do be careful." He gave Gray what looked like genuine concern, flashed a smile, and walked away with a spring in his step.
Crabbe and Goyle trailed after him as always, never far behind.
Gray didn't quite understand what went on in Malfoy's head, but he didn't dwell on it.
After all, the whims of spoiled pure-blood heirs weren't something someone like him—who had never been one—could easily predict. At worst, if Malfoy caused trouble again, Gray would simply teach him another memorable lesson—one that left a strong impression without doing real harm.
He had come up with quite a few new ideas lately. He was almost looking forward to Malfoy giving him an excuse.
Evening arrived quickly.
Hagrid, Harry, Gray, and Hermione stood together outside Hagrid's hut. Inside, Norbert was finishing her last meal.
Hagrid had prepared a large crate for her, packed with plenty of brandy and extra food so she wouldn't go hungry on the journey.
When the sounds from inside finally stopped, Gray opened the door and stepped in alone.
He still had a few things he wanted to say to Norbert.
Inside the hut, Norbert's food basin was empty. She looked up at him with huge, bright eyes, tail wagging as she stretched forward to nuzzle his stomach.
Gray patted her head gently. Then he held out his other hand, palm open. Points of light rose from it.
Norbert's eyes lit up. Her tail thrashed faster as she watched the dancing lights.
But Gray wasn't playing the usual chasing game.
More and more lights appeared, gathering into the shape of Norbert herself. Around her stood other dragons.
Norbert watched intently.
The light-Norbert began to grow—larger and larger—until she matched the size of the others. Then she turned and challenged them one by one.
She defeated them all, forcing each to bow its head in submission at her feet.
And light-Norbert stood in the very center, upon a throne carved from stone. She raised her head and let out a silent, triumphant roar to the sky.
She had become queen.
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