Chapter 35. Dragon 2/?
"So, a dragon," we muttered, looking at the gamekeeper's hut whose windows were tightly curtained, while smoke was pouring from the chimney despite the rather hot April weather, clearly showing there was a fire in the hearth. Hagrid is famous for his love of dangerous monsters, and the more dangerous the monster, the more he likes it. Because of this he had already fallen victim to a certain Tom Riddle once, which led to his expulsion from school, and now, so many decades later, the situation seemed different, and yet here we were again: a monster, Hagrid, and a setup orchestrated by Tom Riddle.
"He's too naive," we sighed, walking behind our friends, who apparently hadn't noticed our line of thought. As soon as Harry knocked on the hut's door, Hagrid opened it just a crack, stuck out his head and, quickly looking around to make sure there was no one else nearby, hurriedly let us inside.
And the hut, as we had suspected, was a real inferno.
"Hagrid, aren't you afraid you'll boil alive?" we asked through Andromeda with obvious skepticism, staring into the fireplace where, right under the kettle in the middle of the flames, lay a black egg.
"Huh? Nah, I'm fine," the half-giant waved it off before starting to brew us some tea and setting a plate of stoat-meat sandwiches on the little table, around which we barely all managed to squeeze.
The giant moved with surprising agility, and soon he was already sitting with us, positioned so that his huge body blocked the view of the hearth.
"So what did yeh come for… what did yeh want to ask?"
"We're just curious," Ron blurted out at once, rocking slightly on his chair as he tried to peer over Hagrid's shoulder.
"Curious?" the big man didn't understand at first, but when he saw where Ron was looking, he realized and asked hopefully, "Yeh haven't told anyone about it, have yeh?"
"No, we haven't," Harry shook his head at once. Meanwhile, as we watched the conversation unfold, we calmly sipped our tea, at the same time trying to cool ourselves with magic — it really was hot in here. However, when we, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, also started on a sandwich, our friends, who had been trying not to show their uncertainty about the half-giant's exotic cooking, gave us a strange look.
"What?" we asked in unison, then added through Regulus, "Meat is meat, even in Africa."
"No, nothing," Hermione replied hastily.
"You shouldn't be so wary of stoat meat," Hagrid shook his head. "It's almost like rabbit."
"By the way, the taste may be unusual, but it's not bad," we added, giving our own assessment of the sandwich we had just tried.
"Speaking of which, Hagrid," we drew his attention through Regulus.
"What is it?"
"You do understand that someone's trying to set you up again, just like all those years ago — and it's the very same Tom Riddle doing it."
"Tom Riddle? Who's that?" Harry asked in confusion, while Hagrid's face darkened.
"Yeh shouldn't joke about things like that, lad… It won't end well."
"I'm not joking, Hagrid," we looked seriously at the big man, who seemed to have remembered the past.
"Last time, because of him, you were expelled, and this time the consequences could be terrible. Let me give you some advice: go to Dumbledore before it's too late and tell him exactly how it all happened — he will help."
"But I've dreamed about this for so long…" the giant muttered with clear sadness and reluctance on his face.
"Hagrid, we're not telling you to give up on your dream, only that everything has its time, and that time hasn't come yet," we said through Andromeda, while the others still didn't understand what we were talking about. Although…
"Hagrid! Is that a dragon's egg?!" Ron exclaimed in shock; in the end he couldn't contain himself and, while Hagrid was distracted, got up from his chair and looked into the fireplace.
"Huh?" Ron's shout was so unexpected that Hagrid, sunk in his worries, was completely thrown off.
But as soon as he looked at the large black egg, he seemed to forget our conversation, and, beaming, began to explain:
"It's a Norwegian Ridgeback egg… I've been readin' this — 'Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit.' Bit out of date, o' course, but it's got everythin' yeh need!… Yeh've got ter keep the egg in the fire, see, 'cause dragon mothers breathe on 'em, and when it hatches, yeh've got ter feed it a bucket of chicken blood and er… brandy in it too."
"Hagrid, remember how you got the egg, and what we just told you," we decided to drag the giant back down to earth.
"I won it in a card game and… that's bad. Very, very bad," the big man blanched, finally realizing the situation he was in.
"Kids, you lot… get back now, I've gotta go see the Headmaster, quick," he said with a note of panic, hurrying to usher us out of the hut, and then, locking the door, set off toward the castle at a brisk pace.
"We're going after him. Dumbledore is our teacher, so I don't think he'll mind us being there," we said to our friends before hurrying after Hagrid.
"Tell us later how it went!" Harry shouted after us.
"Alright!" we answered without slowing down, and soon, realizing we couldn't keep up with Hagrid, we broke into a run.
We caught up with him right at the statue guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
"What're yeh doin' here?"
"We're Professor Dumbledore's students and, naturally, we know a thing or two about the current matter, so we won't be out of place."
"I see…" Hagrid didn't argue; a glimmer of admiration toward us flashed in his eyes as he finally spoke the password.
Dumbledore was waiting for us behind his desk, and though it wasn't particularly noticeable outwardly, it was clear that our arrival had been unexpected for him.
"Professor, I…" Hagrid began nervously before mustering his courage and, looking like a guilty schoolboy, told him about the situation. Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore calmed him down fairly easily and promised to come up with something to deal with the egg.
"Have you had a new vision?" Dumbledore asked as soon as Hagrid left.
"Yes and no. It's hard to explain. We simply know that at the moment Voldemort is living under Professor Quirrell's turban, on the back of his head."
"Quirrell?" the old man was clearly surprised, before a spark of realization flashed in his eyes. "That explains a lot."
Dumbledore sank into thought, and we didn't hurry to interrupt him.
"The current situation is clear to me, and I think we can make use of it, but I'll need your help," the Headmaster finally decided.
"What needs to be done?"
"I know you may not like it, but I still insist that Harry needs training, and therefore he must be allowed to meet Voldemort under controlled conditions. However, it must be arranged so that Harry himself wants to confront him — he needs the tempering of his character."
"In fact, we don't object, but is it really that necessary? We could deal with Tom ourselves."
"You could," the Headmaster didn't argue. "But you yourselves should remember the incident with capturing Pettigrew: if Fate intervenes, we'll be powerless. That's why Harry has to be prepared."
"I see… What do we need to do?"