Chapter 220: The Dragon Hatches
"They amassed enormous wealth this way," Dumbledore continued calmly, "but one day, after driving away the rat fiends as usual and demanding payment, the villagers refused."
"They beat him and drove him out, claiming that simply chasing away rats didn't warrant such an outrageous reward."
"He couldn't accept that. That very night, he unleashed the rats again. They devoured what little food the villagers had left—and then, he allowed them to turn on humans."
"After that, he used magic to control all the children in the village… and took them somewhere unknown."
"When outsiders eventually arrived, the village was overrun with rats. There was nothing left but gnawed bones. And these were no ordinary rats—the largest were the size of calves."
"The witnesses were terrified. They summoned exorcists from the Church—though at the time, those 'exorcists' were actually wizards. Only then was the infestation finally eradicated."
Russell frowned slightly. "Isn't that the legend of the Pied Piper? What happened to the children?"
Dumbledore hesitated, then sighed.
"Ten years later, similar 'pipers' began appearing across various regions. They were the children… but no one ever discovered what became of the original wizard."
"…I see."
Russell pushed the box toward him. "Professor, I'll leave this to you."
"Very well." Dumbledore nodded and took it.
So much effort—and so many potions—wasted, only to end in disappointment. Russell let it go and put the matter out of his mind.
A few days later, he received word from Rubeus Hagrid: the dragon was about to hatch.
He glanced at his schedule—Defense Against the Dark Arts. He skipped it without hesitation.
Fortunately, Wednesday had no classes, so the two of them headed straight for Hagrid's hut.
By the time they arrived, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already there.
The fire in the hearth suddenly dipped low. Then came a shrill, scraping sound—like a mandrake's cry—as a jagged crack crept across the black eggshell.
Hagrid's heavy breathing filled the hut, rattling the strings of dried herring hanging from the ceiling.
When the first scale pushed through the crack, everyone held their breath.
A slick, wrinkled triangular snout emerged, exhaling a thin wisp of bluish smoke that coiled into the air.
The creature looked like a grotesquely enlarged bat specimen—its folded wings glistening like tar. When it stretched them out, they were as wide as Hagrid's stone mug, the jagged bones knocking over a tin tray of rock cakes.
Hermione stumbled backward into a hanging wreath of mistletoe. The dried berries rained down onto the hatchling's back, striking it with sharp, metallic clinks.
"Merlin's spectacles…" Ron's ears flushed crimson. "That's not a dragon—it's hideous!"
Before Ron could even finish speaking, the hatchling's orange-red eye snapped toward him. Its pupils narrowed into two burning slits.
The little dragon hooked Hagrid's deerstalker hat with its forked tail and wobbled upright on its hind legs. When it opened its mouth and let out its first cry, a spiral of crimson flame shot over their heads, scorching the beam where smoked ham hung black.
The rising smoke carried the sharp stench of sulfur mixed with something like rotting pomegranate, forcing everyone to cover their mouths.
"Look at those beautiful horn buds!" Rubeus Hagrid said, his trembling finger hovering above the hatchling's head. "Page 379 of Breeding Dragons for Pleasure and Profit says that every time a Norwegian Ridgeback sheds its horn—"
He abruptly fell silent as the dragon sneezed a glob of spark-filled mucus, nearly setting the hut ablaze.
Harry watched the creature skidding across the table. Its wrinkled skin rippled with each breath, as if countless fire lizards were writhing beneath it.
"It's beautiful… isn't it?" Hagrid murmured, reaching out to stroke its head.
The dragon promptly clamped its jaws around his finger, rows of needle-like teeth flashing.
"Look! It knows its mummy!" Hagrid beamed.
Hermione spoke up, her tone tight. "Hagrid… how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?"
Hagrid opened his mouth to answer—then suddenly went pale. He leapt to his feet and rushed to the window.
"What is it?" Harry asked sharply.
"Someone was peeking through the curtains—a boy—he's running back toward the castle!"
Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even from a distance, he knew exactly who it was.
Draco Malfoy had seen the dragon.
Over the next seven days, that sly, knowing smirk never left Malfoy's face. Meanwhile, the trio spent every spare moment in Hagrid's dim hut, taking turns trying to reason with him.
"Let it go," Harry urged for the fifth time.
Hagrid's rough fingers stroked the ridged scales along the dragon's back. "But Norbert won't survive three days without care."
Norbert—that was the name Hagrid had given it.
Curled by the fire, Norbert had already tripled in size in just a few days. With each heavy breath, sparks flickered from its nostrils. Empty brandy bottles littered the floor alongside scattered feathers, while Hagrid's gamekeeper logs gathered dust.
"My little Norbert knows his mummy now," Hagrid said, his beard sticky with dragon drool, his eyes red as he wiped them with a frayed sleeve. "Watch this—Norbert, come to mummy!"
On the third attempt, the hatchling bit down on the toe of his boot.
"Listen," Hermione said, tapping the edge of the wooden table with her wand. "In less than two weeks, that thing will fill this entire hut. And Malfoy isn't just going to sit back and do nothing."
Hagrid's nails dug into his palms until beads of blood formed. "I… I know I can't keep him forever. But abandoning him like that… I can't do it."
Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's sleeve. "Charlie!"
"You've lost it," Ron snapped, pulling his sleeve back. "I'm Ron."
Then he froze, realization dawning. "You mean Charlie in Romania—the dragon reserve? If we send Norbert to him… he could raise it until it's strong enough to be released…"
They both turned to Hagrid at once. "What do you think?"
"Or," Russell cut in calmly, "you could leave it to me."
All eyes turned toward him.
"I can get a container large enough for it to live in," he continued. "Food won't be a problem either. There's just one condition—I might need to draw a small amount of its blood from time to time. Consider it… payment."
(Keep supporting the story everyone.)
Want faster updates? Send those stones my way—the more, the merrier. Read early at [email protected]/A_divin5