After Professor Kettleburn had spent a good while admiring and testing his new prosthetic, he seemed to remember something of great importance.
"Have a look at this, Alaric."
He picked up the briefcase he had tossed aside and set it gently onto the desk. Under Alaric Thorn's puzzled gaze, the professor clicked open the latches. Inside was a thick layer of soft, quilted fabric enveloping a large, rounded object.
The professor carefully pulled back the cloth to reveal a massive egg.
"A dragon egg?" Alaric blurted out in surprise.
"A Chinese Fireball," Kettleburn explained succinctly. "Traded a massive sheet of fresh dragon hide and a few other favors for it."
The Chinese Fireball, often called the Liondragon, was an Eastern breed that remained rare even among dragon enthusiasts. Alaric had seen his fair share during his travels across Asia, but for Kettleburn, it was a priceless treasure. The man was hopelessly obsessed with magical creatures, specifically the dangerous, the gargantuan, and the aggressive. Dragons sat at the very top of that hierarchy.
Alaric remained skeptical, his eyes lingering on the shell for a few seconds before turning back to the professor. "Professor, why have you brought this here? Is this a bit of retirement bragging?"
Kettleburn chuckled, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tucked the fabric back around the egg and shut the case.
"That is only half the reason," he replied.
"And the other half?"
"The other half is that I'm not entirely sure where to house the thing," he said. "I've heard whispers that the Ministry is tracking a missing Fireball egg that was supposedly smuggled into the country."
Alaric blinked. He had almost forgotten that in Britain, private ownership of dragon eggs was a direct violation of the Warlock's Convention of 1709. Perhaps it was because he spent so much of his own time engaging in "unconventional" activities.
"So... is this the one the Ministry lost?" Alaric couldn't help but ask.
Kettleburn looked at Alaric and gave a mischievous wink. "I'm betting it isn't."
"..."
Alaric was momentarily speechless. He marveled at how colorful the old man's retirement was turning out to be. He gave a weary shrug and sighed. This was a significant headache, but he couldn't very well refuse to help his mentor.
"Fine," Alaric agreed. "I'll handle the egg. Chinese Fireball eggshells, when powdered, make for an incredibly rare potion ingredient..."
Kettleburn's face paled, and he cut Alaric off with a sharp, panicked gesture. "No, Alaric! This egg is alive! It's still in the incubation phase. Don't you dare think about 'processing' it!"
"Very well," Alaric replied, a touch of genuine regret in his voice.
Though he gave his word, he privately decided he might still scrape a few flakes off the shell once it hatched. Not much—an ounce would do for a potent draught.
Relieved by Alaric's acceptance, Kettleburn straightened up and stretched his limbs. He cast one final, slightly anxious glance at the briefcase.
"Right then, Alaric," he said, heading for the door. "I've got to find someone to help me throw the Ministry off the scent. In the meantime, keep it safe. Oh, and it should be hatching in about a week. Be sure to contact me the moment it starts cracking."
Alaric saw the flicker of worry in his eyes and pressed, "Professor, why aren't you keeping it yourself? You're the authority on these things!"
Kettleburn paused, looking indignant. "The Ministry has already been poking around my house, Alaric! Damned busybodies. How could they suspect a recently retired professor? It's an insult!"
Alaric offered a wry smile but didn't reply. If he worked for the Ministry, Silvanus Kettleburn would be the very first person on his list of suspects. He was essentially a person of interest by default.
"Don't worry, Professor," Alaric said finally. "I'll keep it hidden. And if you have any trouble with those new limbs, owl me immediately."
Once Kettleburn had departed, Alaric sat staring at the dragon egg on his desk.
About a week, then?
Suddenly, the egg gave a dull, heavy wobble.
"?"
Alaric leaned in, extending a gloved finger to touch the shell. It was ice-cold. It was a testament to the creature's resilience that it survived at this temperature in the middle of summer. Sensing Alaric's presence, the egg began to rock violently, nearly rolling off the desk.
It seemed the occupant was aware it was freezing to death. Dragon eggs required intense, constant heat to hatch—standard knowledge for any magizoologist.
"High temperatures..."
Alaric murmured, snapping the case shut and carrying it toward the plantation. To make things easier for Remus Lupin, the gateway had been positioned inside Conservatory Three. It was a far more efficient system than having a static entrance; given the plantation's size, walking from one end to the other was a task in itself.
As he stepped through, he saw Remus crouching in the patch of Lethal Dittany, focused intently on the harvest. After his brush with death, Remus now operated with extreme caution. Most notably, he was wearing a pair of thick, elbow-length dragon-hide gloves. He was bundled up so tightly that not a single inch of skin was exposed to the toxic flora.
Lethal Dittany was at its most potent during its first maturity—much like a human in their prime. As the plant aged, the toxicity would gradually wane. Therefore, once the harvest was complete, Alaric would immediately refine it into an essence.
Or rather, a "Lethal Essence of Dittany."
Once refined, the properties of the plant were magnified significantly. Furthermore, the essence had an incredible shelf life. If bottled correctly, it would remain potent for decades. Alaric made it a point to harvest a crop of both standard and Lethal Dittany every year, which meant his vaults were currently stocked with a small arsenal of both healing and homicidal extracts.
While healing essence was a common commodity, Alaric had yet to find a "suitable" occasion for the lethal variety. Regardless, he believed in being prepared.
Remus noticed Alaric's arrival and carefully placed a bunch of purple-tinged leaves into a basket before looking up. His eyes landed immediately on the briefcase.
"What's the matter?" Remus asked, his voice muffled slightly by his protective gear. "What have you brought in today?"