The three of them stared as the crack widened, the shell shifting with a faint scritch-scritch.
Then something pushed through.
A small, ugly black head popped out with bulging eyes and a snout that looked far too sharp for something so tiny. It blinked at them, let out a thin squeak, and promptly tried to bite the air.
Hermione recoiled. "What—what is that?"
Harry leaned closer despite himself, equal parts horrified and fascinated. "It's… it's alive."
Ron's ears went pink as recognition hit him. "It's a dragon," he said quickly. "A baby one. My brother Charlie studies them in Romania—he showed us pictures. That's exactly what they look like when they hatch."
Hagrid beamed, unable to hide it anymore. "Isn't he a beauty?" he said proudly.
The little dragon sneezed, sparks shooting from its nostrils and scorching a tiny mark into the table.
Ron stared at the hatchling, then at Hagrid. "Blimey—where'd you even get a dragon egg?" he blurted. "Charlie says they're nearly impossible to come by. You can't just… find one lying around."
Hagrid shifted his feet, suddenly very interested in the table. "Well… I was down in Hogesamde last night," he said. "Hog's Head. Had a bit ter drink."
"Met a stranger," Hagrid went on. "Hood up, face mostly hidden. We got ter talkin'—cards, creatures, that sort o' thing. Nice enough bloke."
Ron swallowed. "And?"
"And he had the egg," Hagrid said simply. "Didn' say where he got it. We played a few hands, an'… well." He gestured proudly at the small, black hatchling, which gave a tiny hiss and snapped at the air. "I won."
"You won a dragon egg?" Hermione repeated shrilly.
She didn't know exactly what dragons looked like—she'd only seen blurred illustrations in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—but she knew enough. Her face had gone pale.
"Hagrid, that's illegal," she said at once. "The Ministry of Magic strictly forbids anyone from owning dragons. They're classified as Class Five—dangerous, uncontrollable, and a massive breach of the International Statute of Secrecy!"
Hagrid waved a large hand dismissively. "Oh, now, Hermione, don' start. He's only a baby. Look at 'im, then."
The hatchling sneezed, and a small jet of sparks shot from its nose.
Ron jumped backward. "Hagrid," he said weakly, "that thing's going to burn the hut down before it's a week old."
"Nah," Hagrid said fondly, peering down at the tiny dragon. "Norbert jus' needs a bit o' lookin' after. I been readin' up on 'im."
Harry stared. Then blinked.
"Norbert?" he repeated. "You… you've named him already?"
Hagrid looked almost offended. "Course I 'ave. Can't go raisin' a dragon without a proper name, can yeh?"
Behind him, Norbert gave a small snort, singeing the edge of the tablecloth.
Hagrid beamed.
Then the trio left Hagrid's hut in a hurry.
None of them had any desire to stay and watch Hagrid attempt to raise a dragon hatchling—especially when it was already sputtering sparks and small bursts of flame in their direction.
They'd only just made it back inside the castle, slipping through a side corridor, when Harry suddenly stopped short.
"Wait," he whispered. "We forgot something."
Ron frowned. "Forgot what?"
"Hagrid," Harry said. "We were supposed to warn him. About someone sneaking into the Forbidden Forest—that was the whole reason we went there."
A pause.
"…Oh," Ron said.
He recovered quickly, shoulders squaring as he added, a bit too loudly, "Well, can you blame us? Hagrid just casually revealed he owns a dragon. That's not exactly a small detail—"
"What?"
The word cut in from behind them.
The three of them stopped dead, caught mid-step, every thought evaporating at once.
Slowly—very slowly—they turned around.
Professor McGonagall stood behind them, arms folded, tartan robes immaculate, her expression calm in a way that promised absolutely no mercy.
They all swallowed.
"Out of bed," she said coolly. "After curfew. Inside the castle."
Her eyes moved from Harry, to Ron, to Hermione.
"Perhaps," she continued, "one of you would care to explain why I've found three Gryffindors wandering the corridors at this hour?"
The silence that followed was unbearable.
"U–um, Professor," Harry began weakly, "this isn't what you think—"
Hermione barely heard him. Her mind was racing in an entirely different direction. Dragon hatchling. Ron had said it out loud.
Professor McGonagall had definitely heard that—and the implications unfurled all at once. This wasn't about sneaking out after curfew anymore. This was illegal magical creatures, Ministry laws, and consequences far beyond detention.
Hagrid, she realized with a sickening certainty, was in far more trouble than they were.
"No," Professor McGonagall said crisply, cutting Harry off. "I can see it quite clearly. You three broke curfew."
She fixed them with a look that could have stripped paint.
"However," she continued, glancing down the corridor, "there is another matter requiring my immediate attention. Until I return—"
Her gaze sharpened.
"—Mr Filch will keep an eye on you."
Almost on cue, a lantern bobbed into view. Filch emerged from the shadows, thin lips stretching into a delighted, unpleasant smile.
"Rule-breakers?" he crooned, peering at them eagerly. "Out of bed, were you?"
McGonagall turned on her heel. "I will deal with you shortly," she said to the trio, and swept away down the corridor.
The moment she vanished, Filch leaned closer, lantern light flickering over their faces.
"D'you know," Filch said in a thin, pleased whisper, leaning closer, "what used to happen to students who wandered the corridors at night?"
Ron gulped.
"Back in the old days," Filch went on dreamily, "they'd hang 'em by their ankles down in the dungeons. Left 'em there till they learned some respect." He gave a little sigh. "Course, we're not allowed to do that anymore."
His smile slowly crept wider.
"But don't you get your hopes up," he added, lantern swinging as he straightened. "Your punishment'll still be a big one."
After what felt like an age—but was probably no more than twenty minutes—footsteps echoed down the corridor again.
Professor McGonagall returned, her expression set, lips pressed into a thin line that told them the decision had already been made.
"I have decided on your punishment," Professor McGonagall said crisply, fixing the three of them with a stern look. "Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for each of you."
Sixty points.
"Furthermore," McGonagall continued, "for breaking curfew and wandering where you knew perfectly well you were not allowed to be, you will serve detention."
Ron let out a weak breath. "Detention… that's not too bad—"
"You will be accompanying Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest," McGonagall finished calmly, "to assist him with a task."
Silence.
The words seemed to hang in the air.
"The… Forbidden Forest?" Harry repeated faintly.
McGonagall's eyes were sharp. "Perhaps this will teach you that Hogwarts rules exist for a reason."
Filch's smile stretched wider, clearly enjoying every second.
She turned to him briskly. "Mr Filch, take them to Hagrid. He will be waiting for them at the edge of the grounds."
"Yes, Professor," Filch said eagerly, lifting his lantern a little higher. The light cast long, twisted shadows across the stone walls, which did nothing to ease the trio's nerves.
"Move along," he added, gesturing with the lantern. "No dawdling. Detention waits."
*****
A/N : 🔥 On Patreon, the story has already been updated up to Chapter 57 🔥
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