"Professor Kettleburn has given me quite a difficult problem," Vinson said as he opened the box in front of Lupin, revealing its contents.
It wasn't something that needed to be kept secret, at least not from someone he trusted.
Lupin's eyes widened the moment he saw the object resting inside.
"A… Dragon egg?" he asked in a low voice, surprise unmistakable in his tone. "Where in the world did this come from?"
Vinson nodded and pointed to the gleaming surface of the egg. "A Chinese Fireball egg. Professor Kettleburn gave it to me for temporary safekeeping. And, incidentally, there might be only a few days left before it hatches."
Lupin, who had attended Hogwarts during Kettleburn's long tenure as Care of Magical Creatures professor, immediately understood the seriousness of the situation. Hearing that the egg was close to hatching made him quickly step closer to examine it.
"That definitely sounds like trouble," he murmured, leaning over the box.
"Naturally," Vinson replied with a sigh. Then he added, "And to make matters worse, I've heard the Ministry of Magic is currently looking for this little darling."
Lupin frowned, his attention shifting from the egg to Vinson. "If the Ministry wants it, why don't you simply turn it over? It's valuable, yes, but it's still just a Dragon egg. You don't need to risk yourself for this."
"Ah, but then Professor Kettleburn would personally track me down and kill me," Vinson said with a wry chuckle. "He's only storing it with me temporarily. Returning it to the Ministry before he's ready would be… unwise."
Lupin let out a slow breath. "Alright. I won't say anything, then."
"I knew you wouldn't." Vinson smiled faintly. "Honestly, I never doubted you."
Lupin didn't respond, but the small flicker of emotion in his eyes said enough. For someone who often battled mistrust—of others and sometimes of himself—being relied upon meant more than he could easily express.
He reached his hand toward the Dragon egg, only to freeze when Vinson quickly blocked him.
"Careful. You just handled highly poisonous Demiguise vines earlier. I don't know whether this egg's shell is susceptible to contamination, but it's better not to risk poisoning the hatchling."
Lupin withdrew his hand immediately, then took out his wand and cast several Scouring Charms over himself in rapid succession. Only once he was satisfied did he speak again.
"So, how exactly do you plan to handle this?"
Vinson waved for him to follow. "First, we put it somewhere suitable. And what does a Dragon need for hatching? High temperature."
The two exited Shed Number Three and moved into Shed Number Two. Lupin had visited this shed before, but only near the entrance; he had never explored its depths. He knew Vinson cultivated many varieties of magical and non-magical trees inside, but he had not realized just how diverse—or how bizarre—some of them were.
As they proceeded deeper inside, Lupin looked around curiously. "Where exactly are we heading?"
"I told you," Vinson replied. "Somewhere much more suitable for Dragon life."
Just as he said this, a wave of scorching heat rolled over them from ahead, like the opening breath of a furnace.
"And we're here," Vinson said calmly.
Lupin looked forward—and stopped in his tracks.
Before them stood a towering tree, its trunk straight and sturdy, reaching upward like the central pillar of a grand hall. Its branches extended in elegant, sweeping layers, each heavy with clusters of brilliant red flowers.
At first glance, the blossoms resembled tulips. But a moment later Lupin realized what made them extraordinary: the flowers were wreathed in flames.
No—upon closer inspection, the petals were fire.
Actual, flickering flames danced across the blossoms, sending rippling waves of heat into the surrounding air. The space around the tree shimmered, the intense temperature warping the air like a mirage. Even from several meters away, Lupin felt sweat prick his forehead and his robes grow uncomfortably warm.
For a moment he thought he might be hallucinating. Was it really possible for flowers to burn without being consumed? He rubbed his eyes, but the burning petals remained. The heat alone confirmed it was no illusion.
Vinson spoke almost casually, though his voice carried a tone of pride. "Magnificent, isn't it? A mutated Flame Tree. I transplanted it from Africa, then enhanced it with my plant mutation ability. It gained the 'Burning' trait after the mutation."
As if responding to its own name, the tree's fiery blossoms flickered more intensely, sending another wave of heat rolling outward.
"I think we shouldn't get any closer," Vinson warned. "The temperature here is even higher than the last time I checked. Give it a few more weeks and this area will feel like the inside of a volcano."
"Isn't that… dangerous?" Lupin asked, wiping his brow again.
"The shed's ceiling is reinforced and high enough. It won't burn through," Vinson assured him. Then, with a flick of his wand and a soft incantation, the Dragon egg rose smoothly from the box and drifted through the air.
Lupin watched the levitating egg float beneath the Flame Tree, where the temperature was hottest. Almost the moment it settled in place, the egg's surface flushed with bright, glowing red.
"It's not going to cook, is it?" Lupin asked, half-joking but half-serious.
Vinson shook his head, smiling as he observed the egg vibrating lightly in the heat. "Don't worry. Dragon eggs don't cook that easily. You could hold one over a campfire and it would be perfectly fine. As long as the temperature is within their tolerable range—and the Fireball's range is extremely high—they'll only benefit from the heat."
Lupin nodded, though he looked as though he had already reached his daily limit of astonishment. Nearly every plant in this shed managed to shock him at least once. And Vinson treated it all like an ordinary day's work.
"Should we inform Harry about the Dragon?" Lupin asked after a moment.
"Why not?" Vinson replied. "Every young wizard ought to learn something about Dragons. Almost every part of a Dragon has value—scales, bones, teeth… it's good knowledge for him."
With that, Vinson brushed off his clothes and motioned for Lupin to follow him out. "Come on. We still have plenty of other tasks waiting."
Six days later, the Dragon hatched.
The newly emerged Fireball was energetic to the point of being a menace. Despite its tiny size, it managed to snap off a small branch of the Flame Tree within minutes of its first exploration—a sight that made Vinson's stomach twist with distress.
Dragons, whether to wizards or Muggles, carried an undeniable allure. Harry was no exception. Ever since hearing that Vinson had been entrusted with a Dragon egg, he had eagerly visited Shed Number Two every day, waiting for the moment it hatched.
But Harry's fascination faded quicker than Vinson expected. The hatchling, though rare and precious, was undeniably ugly—wrinkled, awkward, and startlingly loud. It behaved like an overexcited toddler with wings: clumsy, needy, and constantly attempting to chew on things it shouldn't.
Anyone would feel their enthusiasm wane after spending more than thirty seconds with it.
Well… anyone except Professor Kettleburn.
Because newly hatched Dragons required constant attention and Vinson had no desire to play dragon-nurse, the responsibility fell elsewhere. Harry was too young, and Lupin already had a full workload.
So Vinson assigned the task to the one resident who was simultaneously patient, immovable, and impossible for the Dragon to injure at its current stage:
The Devil's Snare.
Fortunately for everyone involved, the hatchling couldn't produce fire yet. If it had, the arrangement would have ended in disaster.
Professor Kettleburn visited promptly on the day of the hatching, fulfilling his earlier promise. After examining the squirming newborn with immense enthusiasm, he finally announced its name:
"Torch."
Vinson suspected the inspiration came from the Flame Tree, which the professor had stared at with fascination for a very long time beforehand. Whether the name referred to the Dragon or the burning tree, Vinson wasn't entirely sure.
In the end, Kettleburn left Torch in Vinson's care for the foreseeable future—exactly as Vinson had expected.
And thus, among the mutated plants, blazing blossoms, and endless work of Shed Number Two, life with a young Dragon began.
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