A Life at Hogwarts
Chapter 12 - Part 1
The common room was quieter than usual that evening. Most first-years had already gone up to bed, worn out from another long day of classes and the constant buzz of house rivalries. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering orange shadows across the worn rugs and armchairs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in their usual corner near the fire, the table in front of them littered with half-eaten Chocolate Frog wrappers and a few scattered books that Hermione had brought down earlier for "light revision."
Ron was poking at his bandaged hand with a sour expression, wincing every time his finger pressed too close to the swollen spot. The pus had finally stopped oozing earlier that day, but the bite still looked angry and red, the skin around it tight and shiny. "Bloody thing nearly took my fingers off," he grumbled, flexing the hand gingerly. "Norbert's got teeth like little needles. Hagrid says it's normal for Ridgebacks, that they're supposed to be nippy when they're teething or whatever, but it hurts like hell. Feels like someone poured boiling oil on it."
Hermione leaned in closer, peering at the bandage with a worried frown. She reached out but stopped short of touching it. "You should have told Madam Pomfrey the truth instead of that story about a dog. Dragon bites are serious, Ron. I read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The venom can cause infections that last weeks if it's not treated properly. What if it gets worse? You could lose mobility in your fingers."
Ron pulled his hand back, scowling. "Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly say 'yeah, it's the illegal dragon Hagrid won in a card game,' could I? She'd have gone straight to McGonagall or Dumbledore. Then Hagrid would be in massive trouble, and Norbert would probably get taken away or worse."
Harry stared into the fire, only half listening to their bickering. The flames danced and popped, but his mind kept drifting somewhere else entirely. Every time he closed his eyes lately, those unwanted visions pushed their way in—flashes of his mum years ago, red hair loose, on her knees in a train compartment with that same calm, knowing look on Professor Greengrass's face. The images made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He shook his head slightly, trying to push them away.
Ron kept talking, voice dropping a little as he glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. "It all started a couple of weeks ago. Hagrid was down at the Three Broomsticks, having a few drinks like he does. Some scruffy-looking bloke in a cloak challenged him to a game of cards. Hagrid's always been rubbish at cards when he's had a few, but the bloke seemed harmless enough. They played for stupid stakes at first—chocolate frogs, a bottle of mead, that sort of thing. Then the stranger puts this big, leathery egg on the table. Says it's a Norwegian Ridgeback, really rare, and he can't keep it because his job doesn't let him have pets."
Hermione's eyes widened. "And Hagrid just… took it?"
"Course he did," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You know Hagrid. Anything with scales and teeth and he's gone all soft. The bloke acted like he was doing Hagrid a massive favour, said the egg was getting too difficult to hide. Hagrid came back to his hut that night absolutely chuffed, showing it off to us like it was the greatest treasure in the world. Kept going on about how Norwegian Ridgebacks are one of the rarest breeds, how they've got these spiky tails and breathe fire almost from hatching. We tried to talk him out of it, but you know what he's like when he gets an idea in his head."
Harry finally looked away from the fire. "We should've tried harder. It was obvious something was off about that stranger. Who just gives away a dragon egg in a pub?"
Ron shrugged, still poking at his bandage. "Hagrid didn't care. He built that makeshift incubator in his hut—used one of his old cauldrons and a pile of blankets. We helped him keep it warm for days. Then last Tuesday night it started rocking. Cracking sounds, little flames shooting out the sides. We were all there when it hatched. Norbert came out all wet and squeaking, tiny little wings flapping, scales this sort of brownish-black colour. Hagrid was in tears, calling him 'beautiful' and trying to feed him a bucket of brandy-soaked chicken."
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temple. "And then the biting started."
"Yeah," Ron said darkly. "Norbert's been growing stupidly fast. One minute he's this cute little thing you can hold, next he's the size of a small dog and snapping at everything that moves. I was trying to give him some rat tails Hagrid brought—reached in the crate a bit too quick. He latched onto my hand like it owed him money. Wouldn't let go until Hagrid pried him off. Blood everywhere, and then the pus the next day. Hagrid kept apologising, saying Ridgebacks are just naturally aggressive, but I swear that little monster enjoyed it."
Harry nodded slowly. "We still need to get Norbert out of here before he gets any bigger. Hagrid's hut is way too small now. The smoke from the flames is starting to drift out the chimney during the day, and the roaring at night carries. Someone's going to notice soon—Filch or one of the professors. If they find out Hagrid's been keeping an illegal dragon…"
Hermione nodded, already flipping through a small notebook she'd pulled from her bag. Her handwriting was neat and precise as always. "I sent an owl to your brother Charlie this afternoon, Ron. Right after Herbology. He replied almost immediately. He said he can take Norbert. There's a reserve in Romania that specialises in young Ridgebacks—they've got handlers who know how to deal with the aggressive ones. We just have to get the dragon up to the Astronomy Tower at midnight on Saturday. Charlie's friends will meet us there on brooms and fly him out."
Ron groaned loudly, slumping back in his chair. "Midnight? In the middle of February? It's freezing out there. My hand's still killing me and now we've got to lug a growing dragon up all those stairs in the dark?"
"It's the only way," Hermione said firmly, tapping her quill against the notebook. "The Tower's high enough that the brooms can land easily without being seen from the grounds. We'll use my dad's old car blanket to wrap Norbert up so he doesn't burn anyone or make too much noise. Harry, you and Ron will carry the crate between you. I'll keep lookout with the Invisibility Cloak and cast a few silencing charms if needed. We've done riskier things."
The plan was simple on paper. Stupidly risky in practice. But they were used to that by now.
Ron poked at his bandage one last time and sighed. "Fine. But if Norbert bites me again on the way up those stairs, I'm dropping the crate and running."
Harry managed a small smile despite everything weighing on his mind. "We'll manage. We always do."
Hermione closed her notebook with a decisive snap. "Saturday midnight, then. Let's just hope Hagrid doesn't cry too much when we take Norbert away."
The fire popped loudly, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Outside the windows, the winter wind howled around the towers of Hogwarts. None of them said it out loud, but they all felt the same quiet tension—the sense that this dragon business was just one more complication in a year that already felt like it was spiraling out of control.
For now, though, the three of them sat together by the dying fire, making their plans and hoping, as usual, that everything would somehow work out.
***
Later that night, well past curfew, the three of them crept out of the Gryffindor Tower under the Invisibility Cloak. The portrait of the Fat Lady had grumbled sleepily when they whispered the password, but she'd let them through without raising the alarm. Harry went first, holding one side of the wooden crate. Ron took the other, his bandaged hand making him wince with every shift of weight. Hermione brought up the rear, wand out, ready to cast a silencing charm at the slightest noise.
Norbert was surprisingly heavy for something that had only hatched a few days ago. The little dragon squirmed constantly inside the crate, scales scraping against the wood, his tail thumping against the sides. Soft growling noises rumbled out every few seconds—low and curious at first, then sharper when the crate jolted. The sounds echoed way too loudly in the empty corridors, bouncing off the stone walls like they were trying to announce their presence to the whole castle.
"Keep it steady," Hermione whispered urgently, her breath visible in the cold air. "If he starts really roaring we're done for."
"Easy for you to say," Ron hissed back, adjusting his grip with a grimace. "This thing weighs a ton and my hand's still killing me from the last time he decided I looked tasty. Feels like I'm carrying a sack of angry bricks."
Harry's heart jumped at every creak of the floorboards under their feet. The Invisibility Cloak was stretched tight over the three of them and the crate, the fabric pulling uncomfortably at his shoulders. One wrong step and it would slip. "Just keep moving," he muttered. "We're almost to the stairs."
The corridors felt endless. Every shadow looked like Filch or Mrs. Norris. They passed the suits of armour on the fourth floor, holding their breath when one of them let out a faint metallic groan in the draft. Norbert chose that exact moment to let out a louder growl and shoot a small puff of smoke through the slats. The smell of sulphur filled the air under the cloak.
"Bloody hell, Norbert, shut it," Ron whispered desperately. "You're going to get us all expelled."
They finally reached the spiral staircase leading up to the Astronomy Tower. The steps were narrow and worn, forcing them to go single file while still trying to keep the crate balanced between Harry and Ron. Hermione went ahead, checking around each bend.
"Clear," she whispered after every turn. Her teeth were already starting to chatter from the cold air drifting down from above. "Just a bit further."
The climb felt like it took forever. Norbert was getting more restless the higher they went, shifting his weight and making the crate tilt dangerously. Ron nearly lost his grip on the third spiral.
"Careful!" Harry whispered sharply as the crate lurched.
"I'm being careful," Ron shot back through gritted teeth. "Try carrying half a dragon with a pus-filled hand and see how you like it. Hagrid said Ridgebacks grow fast, but this is ridiculous. He was the size of a football last week. Now he's trying to barbecue my sleeve every five minutes."
Hermione glanced back, her face pale in the dim torchlight. "We're nearly there. Just keep your voices down. If Filch hears us…"
They made it to the top without running into anyone. Harry pushed open the heavy door to the Astronomy Tower platform with his shoulder. The cold night air hit them like a slap in the face. February wind whipped across the open stone, cutting straight through their cloaks. Stars glittered sharp and bright overhead, the Black Lake a dark mirror far below. The wind howled around the tower, tugging at the Invisibility Cloak and making it flap noisily.
"Set him down gently," Hermione whispered, teeth chattering hard now. She helped guide the crate onto the stone floor near one of the big telescopes. "Charlie's people should be here any minute on brooms. They said they'd signal with green sparks."
Ron eased his end down with obvious relief, shaking out his aching arms. "Finally. My shoulders feel like they're about to fall off." He crouched beside the crate and peered through the slats. "Alright, little monster. Time to go live with the professionals."
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