Chapter 42
Ron had written back to Charlie, finalizing the plan for the handover: it would take place on Friday evening.
Over the following week, Gabin went to Hagrid's hut even more frequently. Sometimes he was absent from History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons altogether.
Harry and Ron also dashed to Hagrid's hut whenever they had a spare moment, treasuring every second spent with Norbert. Even if they could only watch from the sidelines when they arrived—never getting too close or touching her—they didn't mind one bit.
Ron was thrilled. "Yesterday Norbert let me get close enough to feed her chicken," he said happily. "In a few more days, I reckon she'll even let me pat her head."
Sadly, in just a few days Norbert would be gone. Ron was devastated and even considered writing to Charlie to delay the departure.
Of course, Hermione and Harry talked him out of it. Even Gabin, who adored Norbert the most, didn't take his side.
Gabin had noticed that the draconic blood in both Hagrid and Norbert was awakening more powerfully by the day. Norbert was developing far faster than any dragon her age—she could now bite straight through a rock cake in one chomp. Hagrid, too, seemed different lately: a bit more irritable and short-tempered.
Gabin worried that if they stayed together much longer, something might go wrong with one of them. That was the last thing he wanted.
On Wednesday afternoon, with no classes, Hermione finished her homework and headed to Hagrid's hut. Harry and Ron would probably only finish theirs by evening.
Hermione pushed open the door. Hagrid wasn't there—off somewhere, no doubt—and Gabin was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, intently studying his notebook.
Still, he freed one hand and flicked his index finger through the air.
A tiny point of light danced around. Norbert stretched her neck, trying to snap it up in her mouth, but the light was maddeningly nimble. She twisted and turned her long neck so much she nearly tied it in knots.
From the way her tongue lolled out and her pupils squared with delight, though, she was clearly loving the game.
"Gabin, you skipped History of Magic again today. That's the fourth lesson you've missed."
Hermione hurried over and pressed her hand down on his notebook, forcing him to look up at her.
Gabin stopped what he was doing and met her brown eyes.
"I've already asked Professor Binns for permission." The point of light floated between them, forming the words.
"All right, all right, you've got permission—Professor Binns would never say no to you. But still..." Hermione trailed off.
She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Gabin's grades were always excellent, unlike Harry and Ron's. He knew more about History of Magic than she did in many areas; half the books she read came from his recommendations after he'd finished them.
She decided to change the subject.
Noticing the redness in his eyes and the bloodshot veins, she asked with concern, "What have you been doing these past few days? You look exhausted."
Gabin closed his eyes and rubbed his eye sockets, then took a long swig of the coffee beside him.
Was this his fourth cup? Or fifth? He'd lost count.
His mind was completely filled with the magical pathways of the fire-making charm.
These past few days, of course, he'd been studying Incendio. He'd recorded all three magical pathway diagrams from Norbert—from egg to the moment she breathed fire—and now he was trying to understand how they related to the charm.
Unfortunately, he couldn't make sense of them. He could imitate the pathways perfectly, but no flames appeared. Even when he exhausted himself overlaying all three patterns together, nothing happened. It just left him drained.
"It's the fire-making charm—Incendio. I still can't grasp it." Gabin didn't explain everything; the whole concept of unique magical pathways would be too complicated to describe, and Hermione might not even understand.
He clapped his hands. Norbert immediately leaned over, exhaling a candle-like flame that bathed his face in reddish light.
Through his magical sight, Gabin saw the pathways in her throat again: like drifting clouds in the sky, dissipating mist, rising steam—constantly spreading and vanishing.
He'd tried simulating it with his own magic, but it was useless. No flame formed.
Gabin reached out and scratched under Norbert's chin. She closed her mouth, narrowed her eyes in contentment, and let out a low, rumbling purr, her tail wagging happily.
"Incendio?" Hermione echoed, puzzled. She drew her wand and murmured the incantation.
"Incendio."
A bright jet of blue flames burst from her wand. She controlled it carefully, shaping it into something like a steady candle flame, just enough to light the area around them.
"Have you been having trouble learning Incendio?" Hermione asked, then realization dawned. "Oh, right—you're working on nonverbal casting. That's trickier. It takes loads of practice, of course, and it's not really suited to everyone. It demands intense focus and willpower. You have to keep the exact image of the spell succeeding firmly in your mind, completely concentrated. The wand also plays a part..."
Hermione recited what she'd read in an extracurricular book. She was clever and had an excellent memory; she didn't miss a single detail.
Unfortunately, it didn't help Gabin much. His nonverbal casting worked differently: he mastered spells by precisely imitating their magical pathways.
This method had never failed him before. Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, Alohomora, Colloportus, Molliare—he'd learned them all through pathways, and thanks to that approach, he wielded them with far greater skill and power than most wizards.
At the very least, Hermione couldn't yet manipulate so many points of light to form sentences, nor could she apply a softening charm to a rock cake without turning it into a soggy mess. She certainly couldn't keep it crisp while strengthening it at the same time.
Gabin listened to her explanation while his mind raced.
Incendio—what was he missing?
A crown, flowing water weeds and layered feathers, clouds in the sky and rising steam—what did they all mean? How could he truly understand the pathway of the fire-making charm from them?
By chance, he turned his magical sight toward Hermione. Her wand still produced the blue flames, while Norbert playfully breathed greenish fire, letting the two collide and mingle.
And within Hermione's flames, he saw a magical pathway that looked... familiar.
"Well, Gabin? Did any of that make sense?" Hermione finished her lecture and looked at him expectantly. The flames from her wand vanished.
"Cast Incendio again, Hermione." The words appeared in glowing points before her. Gabin's eyes shone with sudden excitement as he stared at her.
"Cast Incendio one more time—for me."
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