Chapter 40
The others turned to stare at Ron—even Harry looked surprised.
It was almost unthinkable: something Hermione didn't know, but Ron did.
"You mean you've never heard of Norbert the fat dragon?" Ron said, sounding equally astonished. He looked from Harry to Hermione and realization dawned. "Oh—right. You two didn't grow up in the wizarding world."
Under the combined gaze of the four humans and one dragon, Ron experienced a sensation he had never felt before.
He straightened his shoulders, cleared his throat with deliberate importance, and began the story of Norbert the fat dragon.
*The Tale of Norbert the Fat Dragon*
Norbert was a Swamp Green Dragon born in the marshy wilds of the East River flats. Dragons of his kind were generally small, feeding mainly on fish and bird eggs from the wetlands.
As one of the smaller dragon species, they lived in family groups to improve their chances of survival in the wild—where crocodiles and other predators were always a threat.
There was good reason to believe Norbert's family had been touched by tragedy from the very beginning. When he hatched, his father was already dead, leaving only his mother to care for the newly hatched young.
Swamp Green Dragons typically laid six or seven eggs at a time, so Norbert had an older brother and possibly a younger sister.
But while the mother was away hunting, a pack of wandering hyenas discovered the nest. All of Norbert's siblings were killed. Only Norbert survived—thanks to his mother's timely return.
That day, the mother's anguished roar echoed across the entire East River flats.
With every other hatchling gone, the mother poured all her love and attention into Norbert. She was a strong, capable dragon—able to drive off any intruder single-handedly and still bring back enough food for them both.
So Norbert grew, day by day, until he reached adulthood—without ever once leaving the nest.
His mother wouldn't allow it. She was terrified of losing him too.
At first Norbert couldn't understand her fear. The pull of the outside world made him restless; he wanted to push back against her rules. But every time he saw the fresh wounds on her body—marks left by hunting and defending him—he backed down.
There seemed no real need to leave anyway. His mother remained powerful, always returning with plenty of food. All he had to do was stay safe inside the nest.
Time passed quickly. Norbert soon outgrew the normal size for his species—his body became more than twice as large as a typical Swamp Green Dragon. Even his mother looked small beside him.
Yet he remained obedient. He never tried to leave. In fact, he began to fear the outside world. Once he had longed to feel the wind beneath open sky; now even the sound of grass rustling at the nest entrance was enough to make him tremble.
But his mother was growing old. Her body was no longer strong enough to fight off every threat in the wilds. The food she brought back grew steadily less, while the wounds on her body multiplied.
Norbert thought about going out to hunt for her—but she refused. The terror of losing another child had carved itself too deeply into her heart; the old wound had only festered with time.
In her mind, he was still the tiny hatchling who once huddled in the corner of the nest. If she let him leave, she believed he would be dead within hours.
Yet she herself was dying. She could feel her life slipping away. Before the end came, she was determined to do one last thing for her child.
For Norbert, the following days stretched long and monotonous. He no longer saw his mother awake. Whenever he opened his eyes, she had already left to hunt. By the time he fell asleep again, she still hadn't returned.
But things were changing. More and more prey began to pile up inside the nest. At first the heap was only half Norbert's height. Then it reached his full height. Eventually there were seven or eight separate stacks of food.
The smell inside the nest grew unbearable—a mixture of hot fresh blood and the first sickly-sweet notes of decay, fermenting together into something indescribable.
Finally, on a stormy night filled with wind and rain, Norbert saw his mother once more.
To his eyes she looked young again—her gaze bright as sunlight dancing on rippling water, her movements swift and powerful enough to fight all day without tiring.
But in reality she was covered in terrible wounds. In places the white of bone showed through torn flesh; shredded muscle and blackened blood mingled together like a flower trampled deep into mud.
Unaware—or uncaring—of her own ruined state, the mother dragged the carcass of a lion into the nest and added it to the growing pile.
Exhausted, she looked at her son and let out a long, weary sigh.
Norbert whimpered, tears streaming from his eyes.
His mother answered with a soft croon of her own—but it carried her final command.
The outside is dangerous. These stores will last you a long time. Whatever you do, do not go out.
Having done everything she believed she could, the last of her strength finally left her. She dragged her broken body to the narrow entrance between the nest and the outside world and lay down across it.
She would guard her child from there—guard him forever—and never again allow anything to harm him.
Then she died.
In the days that followed, Norbert continued to eat the food his mother had hunted, even as some of it began to rot.
He thought of leaving, but her body still lay blocking the entrance—exactly as it had in life—and the sight kept him frozen.
But no matter how much food there was, it eventually ran out. By the time a third roll of fat had begun to form around Norbert's belly, the nest was empty.
He looked at his mother's body one last time, then lay down in resignation.
There was no point in going out. He had never seen the world beyond the nest, never felt the wind on his face, never hunted for himself.
His entire life had consisted of eating and sleeping—nothing more.
Now that the food was gone, it was time to sleep.
But the next time hunger woke him, there came the sound of digging from outside—followed by faint human voices. He couldn't make out the words and didn't care to try.
He heard someone gasp in shock, then retch, then exclaim in wonder.
Not long afterward, the English Endangered Dragon Species Rescue Association welcomed a new member.
They named him Norbert. After a period of rehabilitation—during which he would slowly regain his wild instincts and learn to hunt—he would be released back into the wild.
"And then…?" Hermione asked, because Ron had suddenly stopped. His face wore an expression of lingering satisfaction mixed with regret.
He felt he had rushed the telling—hadn't quite found the right rhythm.
***
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