Rock snapped the book shut with a sharp thump.
No wonder Snape kept calling him knowledge-deficient.
Ocular Alchemy didn't have exactly what he needed, but it laid out three other experimental paths for eye-based alchemy in painful detail. One was a variant chasing a permanent Disillusionment effect. Another tried to copy a basilisk-style death stare. The third was straight-up ridiculous—an "All-Seeing Eye" project that the book itself admitted had failed spectacularly.
Pretty much every record outside the first one ended in disaster.
"Professor Snape, would it actually kill you to just say it straight?" Rock muttered, sliding the book into his bag. He'd return it tomorrow.
Every single page screamed the same warning: skipping the theory and jumping straight to practice was a one-way ticket to self-destruct.
Snape had basically been warning him—without saying it outright—how stupid his current approach really was.
"Long road ahead…" Rock sighed and started writing the essay Snape had demanded on Potions and Biological Tissue Fusion Studies. At least this one was actually useful compared to the restricted-section nightmare.
He was deep in it when a crisp tap-tap-tap came from the window.
The owl he'd bought over Christmas was flapping outside like it was late for a meeting. Rock got up and opened the window. The little guy shot straight in.
Rock handed over one of Newt's cat-food treats like always, then untied the letter from its leg.
Little Rock, come to the hut.
No hesitation. Rock left the tower and headed straight for Hagrid's cabin.
Inside, Hagrid was sitting at the tiny table with the biggest, dopiest grin on his face, staring at the dragon egg like it was the best gift in the world. He kept whispering baby-talk to it under his breath.
"Tone it down, Hagrid. People are gonna notice."
Rock sounded completely done. Hagrid looked exactly like a kid who'd just been told Santa was real. He'd been like this ever since Rock showed up.
"Oh! Rock, you've got no idea how happy I was when I saw that first crack!"
Hagrid reached out and gently poked the shell. "What d'you reckon we should name her when she hatches?"
"It's your dragon egg, Hagrid. You decide."
Rock knew the big guy was just too excited to think straight. Half the creatures in the Forbidden Forest already had names courtesy of Hagrid.
"Norbert!" Hagrid declared, completely missing what Rock had said.
Fine. With Hagrid this hyped, Rock figured he might as well work on his own stuff.
He moved to the little bar counter and started prepping potion ingredients. After Snape's warning, he'd decided it was smarter to run everything by the professor first.
Crack—crack—
The sharp sound of breaking shell cut through the air. Hagrid's excited yelp followed right behind it.
Rock walked over and leaned in. The fissure had already widened into a jagged lightning bolt. A wet black shadow rolled around inside, impatient.
Crack—
The shell exploded outward in shards.
A slimy triangular head thrust through first, followed by the rest of the body in one violent push. The little dragon staggered upright on shaky legs, amniotic fluid dripping from midnight-black scales.
It blinked huge amber eyes once… twice… then locked them on the nearest giant face.
Hagrid's.
"Oh! Look at 'er! She's beautiful, isn't she?" Hagrid's voice cracked with pure joy. "She thinks I'm 'er mum!"
Rock raised an eyebrow. "You were literally breathing on the egg the whole time. What did you expect?"
The hatchling tilted its head, nostrils flaring. Then—without warning—it lunged.
Tiny razor-sharp teeth clamped straight onto the end of Hagrid's enormous nose.
"OW! Oi—easy now!" Hagrid yelped, more startled than hurt. "She's just sayin' hello!"
Rock was already moving. "Hagrid—get it off before it takes a chunk."
"I told ya, she's imprintin'! It's natural!"
The dragonet growled around its mouthful of nostril, tiny wings flapping furiously.
Rock sighed, reached out, and pinched the hatchling firmly by the loose skin at the back of its neck—like scruffing a kitten.
The little dragon froze.
Then it let go, twisted mid-air, and opened its mouth at Rock.
A thin jet of orange flame shot out.
Rock didn't flinch.
Smack.
An open-handed slap connected perfectly with the side of the dragon's head—not hard enough to injure, just sharp enough to startle.
The hatchling's head whipped sideways. It blinked in pure, affronted shock.
Then it coughed.
Cough—hack—cough—
A puff of black smoke came out, followed by another. The little dragon wheezed, throat working frantically, wings drooping in betrayal.
Rock stared down at it, expression flat. "Congratulations. You've been slapped by a first-year and now you're choking on your own fire. Truly the apex predator."
Hagrid made a strangled noise somewhere between horror and laughter. "Rock! She's only just hatched!"
"And she already tried to eat your face. Priorities." Rock released the pinch-hold. The dragonet dropped onto the table with an indignant thump, glaring up at him with watering eyes.
The hatchling tried to roar.
What came out was a squeaky, smoke-rattled:
"Kreeee—cough—hiss!"
Rock snorted despite himself. "Yeah, yeah. Don't bully the poor young Norberta. Message received."
Hagrid's face lit up again. "Norberta! That's perfect! My little Norberta!"
He reached out with both hands.
The dragonet—still coughing—immediately tried to bite again.
Rock flicked his wand lazily. "Volaris."
Translucent hands lifted Norberta gently into the air, legs kicking, tail lashing, tiny flames sputtering harmlessly.
Hagrid looked heartbroken. "She doesn't like me anymore…"
"She likes you fine. She just likes biting more." Rock set the hovering dragonet down in the prepared crate lined with fireproof blankets and dragon-meat scraps. "Give her a few days. She'll figure out you're the food source."
Norberta landed, shook herself, and immediately began tearing into the raw turkey leg Hagrid had left inside. Her tail thumped the crate floor like a war drum.
Hagrid watched, eyes shining. "She's perfect."
"She's a menace," Rock corrected, but there was no heat in it. He glanced at the now-empty brandy bottle Hagrid had been using to "keep the temperature right." "And you're going to need a bigger crate by tomorrow. She's already visibly bigger."
Hagrid blinked. "Already?"
"Dragons grow fast. By next week she'll be the size of Fang. By the end of the month…" Rock trailed off meaningfully.
Hagrid gulped. "Right. Er… Rock?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you… maybe not mention this to anyone? Just for a bit?"
Rock gave him a long look.
"Hagrid. You're hiding an illegal dragon in a wooden hut. Next to a school. With children. And you're asking me not to tell?"
Hagrid rubbed his beard sheepishly. "Well… when you put it like that…"
Rock sighed and rubbed his temples. "I won't tell. But you need a plan. A real one. Not 'I'll keep her in the pumpkin patch.'"
Hagrid nodded vigorously. "I'll write to Charlie! Soon as she's big enough to travel!"
Rock glanced at Norberta.
The little dragon had finished the turkey leg and was now gnawing experimentally on the metal latch of the crate. Sparks flew.
Crunch.
The latch bent.
Rock pinched the bridge of his nose. "Make it very soon."
Outside, the moon was high over the Forbidden Forest. Somewhere deep in the trees, a unicorn herd stirred uneasily at the faint scent of dragon smoke on the wind.
Inside the hut, Norberta hiccupped another tiny plume of black smoke, curled up on her blanket, and fell instantly asleep—snoring like a tiny chainsaw.
Hagrid gazed at her with pure adoration.
Rock shook his head, packed away his potion ingredients, and stood.
"Get some sleep, Hagrid. You're going to need it."
As he slipped out the door and pulled the Disillusionment Charm over himself, he heard Hagrid whisper to the sleeping dragon:
"Don't worry, Norberta. Uncle Hagrid's got ya."
Rock snorted softly into the night air.
Yeah. That was going to end well.