After bidding farewell to the three Ravenclaw girls still bent on experimenting with the Levitation Charm, Louis trudged through the snow toward Hagrid's hut.
The black waters of the lake and the white blanket of the Forbidden Forest created a striking contrast. Louis paused for a while to take it in, only moving again when the snowfall grew heavier.
As he drew close to Hagrid's cabin, he immediately felt waves of heat rolling out from within. Snow was melting quickly off the roof, and the ground around the hut was already bare stone and dirt.
That was unusual. Hagrid, being a half-giant, never feared the cold. He had no reason to keep his home that hot.
Louis could already guess the real reason. There was only one explanation: dragon hatching.
Curious, he had deliberately come to pay Hagrid a visit, hoping to get a close look.
The door opened quickly. When Hagrid saw Louis standing there, he leaned out, peered left and right to check that no one else was around, and only then allowed him in.
"Louis—what are yeh doin' here?" Hagrid asked. He wore a blackened apron that wasn't small by normal standards, but looked comically undersized against his massive frame.
He seemed nervous, his eyes darting constantly to check behind him.
"Just came to see you, Hagrid." Louis took off his hat and his green Slytherin scarf. "It's awfully hot in here."
"Er—aye, well… I don't like the cold much," Hagrid said seriously.
"Hagrid, lying doesn't suit you." Louis shrugged. "Fine, I'll be direct—I'm here to see the dragon."
"D-dr-dragon? What dragon?" Hagrid stammered, panicked.
"The dragon you're raising. I saw it with these eyes of mine. I saw it break out of its shell." Louis tapped his temple.
"Yeh… yeh saw it? Impossible! It hasn't hatched yet." Hagrid denied at once.
"That's because what I saw was the future. You know I have the gift of prophecy," Louis said gravely, dabbing imaginary sweat from his brow. "Now, quick—let me see it."
"Alright, alright. But mind, it can't be taken from the heat yet," Hagrid muttered helplessly.
He led Louis to the fireplace and pointed to a blackened cauldron hanging over the flames. "There. In there."
Inside the cauldron, a pitch-black egg rolled and bobbed in the boiling water like some massive, oversized poached egg.
Honestly, Louis' first thought on seeing it was: Is that thing cooked yet?
So dragon eggs were hatched this violently?
On second thought, though, it probably made sense. With water, at least the temperature wouldn't climb too high.
"How long until it hatches?" Louis asked eagerly, already imagining claiming the dragon for himself.
What? The dragon was Hagrid's?
Didn't matter. It wouldn't stay with Hagrid for long. Sooner or later, it would have to be sent away. And when that happened, it would be Louis' turn.
"Couple o' months yet," Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together with excitement. "Then I'll have a dragon."
"Then you'd better prepare yourself. You won't be able to keep it for long," Louis warned.
"Wh-why not? I can feed it, raise it meself! I can't part with it!" Hagrid looked as dejected as a child—albeit a one-ton child.
"Because it'll grow," Louis said flatly. He glanced around the hut. "At best, you'll manage two or three months. After that, it won't fit in here. You'll be forced to find somewhere else for it."
Hagrid shook his head stubbornly. "No! If it don't fit in here, I'll—"
"Raise it in the Forbidden Forest? Forget it. Dragons fly, and they're fiercely territorial. It'd probably wipe out the entire colony of Acromantulas in there."
Louis shook his head. "Be careful, Hagrid. My owl already dragged an Acromantula out of the forest. The professors might decide to take action over the summer."
At the mention of Acromantulas, Hagrid faltered, his eyes darting uneasily.
Louis was just giving him a little warning—so that when the dragon was eventually taken away, it wouldn't break him too badly.
Raising a dragon was fine in theory. But the real questions were: how, and where?
Inside the cramped little hut, the two of them fell into heavy, troubled silence.
...
By evening, the infirmary was unusually lively.
When young wizards played, they tended to forget all limits. Heated from running around, they tossed aside their scarves and hats, thinking themselves invincible. But once the fun wore off—reality struck.
They had all caught colds.
Runny noses, fevers, sneezing—the full set of symptoms, making it look almost like a flu outbreak.
So, under the professors' orders, students lined up at the infirmary to receive special potions.
Unlike Muggle medicine, which only suppressed symptoms, wizarding potions not only soothed but cured the illness outright.
Though… the side effects were hard to ignore.
"Whooo—"
A student who had just swallowed his potion passed by Louis and Hermione, letting out a sound like a train whistle. Two streams of steam spurted from his ears.
He looked for all the world like a little locomotive that had come to life.
Hermione stared wide-eyed at the boy, a puff of steam cloud floating above his head, then turned to Louis.
"Do we really have to drink it?" she asked hesitantly. Steam coming out of her ears sounded far too humiliating.
But before she could protest further, she sneezed.
"When you're sick, you take medicine. No excuses," Louis said with a smirk.
This potion was fascinating—strange side effects and all.
"T-then you should go back first. You don't need any," Hermione stammered. To preserve her dignity, the fewer witnesses the better. And Louis, of all people, absolutely could not see her like that!
"I'm here to keep you company," Louis replied, face sobering. "Don't worry, I won't laugh at you."
"No way!" Hermione flailed her arms, trying to shove him off. But with her small frame, it was a hopeless effort.
Their playful scuffle ended when it was finally Hermione's turn.
Madam Pomfrey handed her a vial filled with potion and said kindly, "Drink, dear. You'll feel better right after."
"C-could I take it back with me instead?" Hermione asked with a grimace.
"Absolutely not. I must see you drink it. Don't worry, it isn't bitter." Madam Pomfrey's tone brooked no argument.
Hermione turned her head, glaring at Louis snickering behind her. Steeling herself, she gulped down the potion.
It wasn't bitter—but it was fiery hot!
"Give him one too!" Hermione's flushed face burned redder under the heat of the brew. Feeling it take effect inside her, she jabbed a finger at Louis, determined to drag him down with her.
Louis blinked, then pointed at himself with a laugh. "I'm not sick."
"Medicine treats the ill, but it also prevents illness," Madam Pomfrey declared firmly. Without hesitation, she shoved a vial into his hands. "Drink up!"
Seeing Hermione's red cheeks and ears already threatening to steam, Louis sighed helplessly, then raised the potion and downed it.
The spicy liquid burned down his throat, shooting up through his nasal cavity and into his head. Even though he wasn't sick, he felt his mind snap awake, refreshed in an instant.
Potent stuff. Strong enough to make him dizzy.
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