A few days later…
It was past midnight when the stairs of the west tower creaked beneath the cautious steps of three hooded figures under a certain invisible cloak.
Hermione was at the front with her wand raised, barely illuminating the hallway with a careful Lumos, while Harry and Ron followed in single file like ducklings trailing their mother, occasionally tripping due to the limited space under the Invisibility Cloak.
"Are you sure Kronk's going to Hagrid's place in the middle of the night?" Ron whispered.
"Didn't you see how much Kronk was sweating today? Those two are up to something," Hermione replied, with that determined gleam in her eye she always had when she was about to unravel a mystery. "Besides, they were signaling to each other during lunch in the Great Hall."
They stopped before the large wooden door that led to Hagrid's hut.
A faint orange glow escaped through the cracks. Hermione raised her hand, signaling for silence, and the three of them crept toward the not-so-clean window—just clear enough to spy inside.
And what they saw left them speechless.
Hagrid was sitting in his huge leather armchair, his face a mix of excitement, anxiety, and… tenderness?
A robust fire blazed in the hearth, and on a bed of embers, a large dark egg shimmered with golden highlights. Nearby, Kronk was carefully holding a teapot over a secondary pot, in which water boiled around the egg, as if wrapping it in a thermal bath.
"Are they using the water boiled around the egg to make tea?!" Ron murmured, slightly horrified.
"Shhh!" Hermione hissed.
Inside, Kronk's excited voice rang out.
"And then, when it starts to move, you just have to keep the environment warm and loving. No yelling, we don't want to startle it, and definitely no 'Look at those claws, what sharp teeth!'" he said, gesturing with emphasis. "That gives the babies anxiety, or worse—it could give them a complex about their looks!"
"Where did you learn all that?" Hagrid asked, carefully adjusting the coals under the egg.
"Remember when I looked after the albino basilisk baby for that neighbor in Hogsmeade who needs glasses but stubbornly refuses to wear them?" Kronk waited as Hagrid nodded in confusion. "Well… it wasn't a basilisk. It was a cat with a very intense stare. And dragons are basically huge cats with scales and fire breath!" he argued confidently. "Bottom line—if you can handle cats, dragons are easy."
Hagrid nodded solemnly, as if that made perfect sense.
"The most important thing," Kronk narrowed his eyes, "is the sweater."
With a careful flourish, Kronk pulled something wrapped in wool cloths out of his backpack: a tiny pink knitted sweater, with a little heart embroidered on the chest.
"You knitted it a sweater?" Hagrid asked, moved.
Why hadn't he thought of that? He had loads of unicorn hair at home—he could've used it to knit one too…
"Of course! It even has a progressive expansion charm. It grows along with the dragon. Also…"—he glanced around and lowered his voice—"… it's fire-resistant up to magma temperature. And don't ask how I convinced Professor Flitwick to teach me those spells." He waved it off. "The dancing cupcakes still haven't recovered from the trauma..."
Hagrid looked like he was about to cry.
"You're a genius, Kronk."
Just then, a small crack came from the egg.
The three students at the window froze, and Hermione gripped the frame to stop herself from gasping. Inside, Hagrid approached on his knees, while Kronk handed him a towel and a bowl of hot water like a delivery room nurse.
The egg trembled.
Another crack appeared, and with a small snap, a tiny claw poked out.
Finally, with a high-pitched squeal that made the window glass vibrate, a triangular head covered in damp scales emerged from the shell.
"Oh, heavens," Hagrid whispered.
"She's beautiful," Kronk murmured reverently.
The baby dragon opened her eyes—huge amber orbs—and let out a sneeze that launched a timid spark into the air. Her little body shook, her barely-formed wings looked like crumpled paper.
Kronk gently leaned in, humming in a lullaby tone:
"There, there…"
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slipped the pink sweater onto her in a stunning display of manual dexterity and finger flexibility. The creature let it happen, poking her head through the collar and making a noise that sounded like a satisfied chirp as she felt the warmth of the garment.
At that moment, Hermione couldn't take it anymore and kicked the door open.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, trying to hide the tremble in her voice—and her leg.
Merlin, her leg hurt now!
What kind of wood was that blasted door made of to be so hard and heavy?
"AH!" Harry and Ron shouted in unison behind her.
Kronk turned abruptly, still holding the baby creature in his arms.
"Shhh! She's sleeping," he whispered at once, making the universal "quiet" gesture with his lips and fingers.
His stern gaze froze Hermione for a second before she could process what she was seeing.
"Is that… a…?"
"A dragon!" Ron exclaimed happily.
"Norbert!" said Hagrid proudly.
Kronk frowned for a moment.
"…I'd say Norberta."
"What do you mean, Norberta?" Harry asked.
"I had a feeling it'd be a girl," Kronk said with a shrug. "Eggs that are flatter on the ends tend to be female… according to The Unofficial Guide to Loving Care for Fire Creatures. Also…" he added as the little dragon snuggled against his neck, "…she liked the pink sweater."
Hagrid nodded with solemn conviction, realizing he had overlooked such a crucial detail.
Hermione opened her mouth—but closed it again.
She looked at Norberta.
She looked at Kronk and sighed.
"We really shouldn't be doing this," she said, more out of habit than conviction.
"Can we stay a little while?" Ron asked, enchanted.
Hermione folded her arms… and then stepped closer to get a better look at the sleeping dragon.
Or more specifically, at her sweater.
"Are you sure that thing's fireproof?" she asked, doubtful.
It looked like that ugly sweater Ron had gotten from his mother.
Not that she'd ever say that to his face!
She didn't want to become a target for Fred and George, no matter how true it was…
"Up to magma!" Kronk puffed out his chest proudly. "I knitted it with northern yak wool."
And in the warm hut, sheltered from the night, four students (and a Hagrid who refused to blink so he wouldn't miss a single moment) shared dragon egg tea and rock cookies.
Outside, the snow kept falling—and a certain blond-haired student saw everything!