After lunch in the dormitory area's dining hall, Charlie was called away to clean out the fireplace soot. Anthony spent an undisturbed afternoon in his room, flipping through his notebook for a while before spending a lot of time conjuring legs for various objects and watching the ginger cat and the resentful chicken chase them around the room with great enthusiasm.
He even found some tea leaves in the small kitchen in the common area and brewed himself a pot of tea. As the teapot whistled to signal the water was boiling, Hagrid sat behind him, occupying the largest sofa in the common area, gloomily reading about the case of the 1875 Chimera that killed eleven wizards in the Balkans, occasionally casting longing glances at the snow-covered landscape and the golden-glowing mountains outside the window.
By evening, the researchers had all returned.
Charlie came knocking on the door, calling them for dinner. Hagrid let out a long sigh: "Let's go, Henry."
"Sure," Anthony said, amused as he watched Hagrid eagerly toss the book back into his luggage.
"I don't want to raise those Chimeras anymore," Hagrid grumbled. "Compared to Norbert…"
Charlie was waiting outside the door, grinning as he asked, "How's your exam preparation going, Hagrid?"
Hagrid scratched the back of his head in distress and let out a heavy sigh.
Charlie said understandingly, "Dragon researchers also have a knowledge assessment every two months. I hate it."
Hagrid asked sadly, "Do you need to take exams to raise dragons too?"
…
Perhaps because they were preparing for the Christmas feast the next day, dinner at the reserve was very simple. Anthony and Hagrid each had some bread and thick soup before bidding farewell to Charlie and returning to their room.
Hagrid stuck a poster on the window that read "Time to See Norbert: Tomorrow" and continued sitting on the sofa, scratching his head over his Chimera files. Anthony sat opposite him, holding the resentful chicken and reading a novel he had found in the room titled The Dragon Next Door.
By the time he finished the book, it was pitch black outside. Anthony put the book down, intending to remind Hagrid to rest early, but he saw Hagrid leaning back on the sofa, his hand loosely gripping the files on his lap, breathing heavily as he slept.
Anthony nudged him.
Hagrid mumbled, "Don't bite, Norbert…"
"Hagrid!" Anthony said loudly. "You should go to bed!"
"Huh?" Hagrid said groggily. "Okay…" He let go of the files, letting them slide to the floor, and slumped sideways onto the sofa—the sofa sagged dramatically, but Hagrid seemed to notice nothing—he rolled over in his thick coat, turning his face toward the crooked backrest, and began snoring.
Anthony picked up the files from the floor, glanced at the truly sleep-inducing official notices on them, and placed them on the table. He drew the curtains, blocking out the "Time to See Norbert" poster—Hagrid had at some point underlined it so heavily that it nearly cut the paper in half—and quietly returned to his room with the resentful chicken, accompanied by Hagrid's snores.
The next morning, he was awakened by clattering noises in the common area. The ginger cat was curled up beside his pillow, pressing its ears down and glaring unfavorably outside.
Anthony opened the door, not entirely surprised to see Hagrid rummaging through his luggage. Dawn had just broken, still tinged with a sleepy gray-blue, and the distant mountains were nothing more than a row of misty silhouettes. Hagrid was wearing a brand-new set of clothes, humming a tuneless song as he lifted the sofa and peered underneath.
"Good morning, Henry!" Hagrid said loudly with a smile. "Merry Christmas! What wonderful weather!"
"Merry Christmas," Anthony said, standing in the doorway in his pajamas. "What are you looking for?"
"Oh, Norbert's teddy bear," Hagrid said. Beside him were rock cakes wrapped in a fluffy blanket, two intact crates of brandy, and the shiny stone used by dragons to sharpen their teeth.
Anthony helped search for a while before giving up, leaving Hagrid to continue rummaging noisily through the common area. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Hagrid was already sitting on the floor, pouring all the rock cakes into a tin box he had found from somewhere (it looked like a biscuit tin, embossed with the image of a Romanian Longhorn dragon with its mouth wide open).
"Did you find it?" Anthony asked.
"Found it," Hagrid said cheerfully, looking around before pulling out a flattened object from under him that was somewhere between a pillow and a voodoo doll.
Anthony finally understood why his summoning charm had failed.
"I made this for Norbert myself!" Hagrid said proudly. "It's my first time making a teddy bear. I was worried I wouldn't have enough time, so I worked a bit quickly… but looking at it now, the final result isn't too bad."
Anthony said, "That's great. I think Norbert will like it." If Hagrid thought Norbert's attitude toward the previous teddy bear was affection, it would probably like this one too.
…
After a quick breakfast—the dining hall was almost empty—Charlie, yawning, asked them to put on specific boots and gloves. Anthony's pets were still asleep, so he left them all in the room, only bringing the applewood soaked in brandy. Charlie asked him and Hagrid to pack all the brandy into a special leather bag and carefully inspected the gifts Hagrid planned to bring (he eyed the teddy bear suspiciously for a long time) before finally declaring they could set off.
"Generally speaking, there are three ways to find a dragon," Charlie said, handing them two wand holsters and indicating they should strap their wands to their waists like he did.
Hagrid hesitated for a moment before awkwardly stuffing his umbrella into the holster, making it bulge. Even though the Ministry of Magic had lifted his wand restrictions, he still wasn't used to the feel of a wand without an umbrella handle.
"What are the three ways?" Hagrid asked with great interest, clumsily fastening the holster's strap around himself with his large hands.
"All the dragons in the reserve have been counted," Charlie said, giving Hagrid a wary look before continuing. "The most common method we use is deduction. The Romanian Longhorn is a relatively routine diurnal dragon. Dragon habitats always leave traces: footprints, droppings, broken branches, shed scales, bloodstains from injuries, and so on. Based on these traces, we can deduce a dragon's movement patterns. After observing for a while, we can figure out its daily routine."
"And then wait for it along its usual route?" Anthony asked.
"Exactly," Charlie said. "The second method is trapping. Through deduction, we can find dragons and observe their daily lives, but trapping allows us to move dragons away from their familiar environments. This is the most common method we use to capture dragons for the semi-contact zone, and it's also the favorite method of poachers."
"Do dragons always fall for it?"
Charlie shook his head: "Not necessarily, but a dragon needs to eat a lot every day to survive, so they usually won't refuse a little snack. Look, that's the bait we use in the reserve."
He pointed to a bloody, four-legged animal hanging from a tree branch, its original form unrecognizable. The blood had soaked the branch black, and the dried parts still faintly reflected the light.
"Some dragons prefer intact corpses, but Longhorns favor prey that's already been skinned," Charlie said. "When hunting, they gore their prey to death with their horns before slowly enjoying it. By then, no creature's fur is left in good shape…
"Anyway, we stuff specific corpses with sedatives and sleeping potions and set up alert charms around them. If anything touches the bait, we'll be notified. This is also for the other animals living in the reserve. A few times, when our researchers arrived, they only found a group of dazed wolves and most of the bait still left."
"The third method is provoking and angering the dragon," Charlie said, surveying the surroundings. "Dragons are irritable creatures. You can shout insults at them, poke their nostrils and eyelids with branches, pull their scales… In short, once provoked, they'll follow you relentlessly."
Anthony commented, "The first method sounds the safest—for both the dragon and the wizard. That's what we're using, right?"
"Oh, no. Unlike Longhorns, Ridgebacks don't have a regular routine, so we can't determine their usual routes," Charlie said. "We're using the third method."
"The third?" Hagrid asked in surprise. "We're going to pull Norbert's scales?"
"No need to go to that trouble," Charlie said, waving his hand lightly. "We're already invading Norbert's territory."
…
Tall beech and oak trees cast crisscrossing shadows on the ground. A clear stream flowed through snow-covered rocks, with dead leaves and broken branches swirling in the water before getting stuck between stones, trembling under the current's force.
"Norbert usually moves around here," Charlie said. "It's not old enough to need a territory yet, but it seems to have claimed this area. There's plenty of food here… We haven't observed it hunting bears or wolves yet, but it loves antelope and bison. A few people have seen it fishing, but its technique isn't very skilled yet, so it often fails."
"That's my fault," Hagrid said guiltily. "I forgot to teach it how to fish."
"Dragons learn to hunt on their own," Charlie said. "It's their instinct. It's like how they actively try to establish territories…"
He suddenly stopped, tilting his head and listening intently.
"What is it?" Hagrid asked.
"Shh," Charlie said, looking up at the overlapping branches that divided the sky into countless tiny fragments. "Do you hear that? The sound of wings flapping… from this direction, no, this way…"
He turned abruptly, looking behind Anthony and Hagrid. Immediately afterward, there was a sound of tree trunks snapping, grating on the ears.
Anthony and Hagrid turned around to see a pitch-black dragon flapping its wings, glaring down at them threateningly. Several sharp fangs protruded from its long snout, gleaming ominously. A black ridge rose along its slender back.
It was a Norwegian Ridgeback.
This dragon was much larger than the one Anthony remembered from the crate, standing half a body taller than Hagrid. It loomed over them from the remains of a beech tree, its orange eyes sizing up the newcomers with ill intent.
"Wow," Anthony whispered in awe.
The dragon's wrinkled, pointed claws and the spikes on its wings hooked onto the tree trunks as it slowly climbed from the wreckage of one tree to another, its powerful tail swishing behind it. A wisp of green smoke rose from its nostrils. Broken branches lay scattered around, almost disappearing into the fluffy snow.
"Be careful, its temper is terrible," Charlie warned softly. "We're already too close. It's best not to make loud noises—"
Before he could finish, the biscuit tin containing the rock cakes in Hagrid's hand fell to the ground with a loud clang, hitting the exposed rocks.
"Norbert?" Hagrid called out tearfully, his voice booming as he stretched out his hands. "Norbert, come here, Mama's here!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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