11. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback
In the weeks that followed, the quartet kept a close eye on Professor Quirrell. He seemed to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look like he had cracked yet.
Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, Hope, and Hermione pressed their ears to the door, making sure Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which seemed even worse around Gryffindor—particularly Hope. She had been on his bad side before, but now she was somehow on his worse side, something she hadn't thought possible. Still, his foul mood at least meant the Stone was probably safe.
Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days, he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.
Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Philosopher's Stone. She had started drawing up revision timetables and color-coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, except that she kept nagging them to do the same. Hope eventually gave in to Hermione's persistence, begrudgingly starting to prepare for exams.
"Hermione, the exams are ages away," Harry said with a shrug.
"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages. That's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."
"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you revising for? You already know it all."
"What am I revising for? Are you mad? We need to pass these exams to get into the second year! They're very important! I should have started studying a month ago—I don't know what's gotten into me..." Hermione rambled nervously.
"Not you too, Hope," Ron groaned, watching her sort through her notes.
Hope paused, looking up at Ron. "I've got to do well on my exams. After what I pulled with Snape, my dad's furious with me," she admitted. "I'm lucky he didn't send a Howler." She shuddered, thinking back on her dad's letter.
Unbeknownst to her, Remus had actually gotten a good chuckle out of her prank, the stunt reminding him of his Hogwarts days with James and Sirius. But the memory of the latter quickly shifted from nostalgia to anger. So instead, he sent her a stern letter, warning her not to step another toe out of line—or else. He wasn't actually sure what "or else" meant, as he had never really needed to be stern with her before. He simply hoped she would heed the warning.
The teachers also seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione, much to the boys dismay. They piled on so much homework that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as fun as Christmas. It was hard to relax with Hermione reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood, practicing wand movements, and Hope muttering under her breath all the ingredients needed for a cure for boils. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work.
"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.
Harry, who was looking up 'Dittany' in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.
"Jus' lookin'," he said in a shifty voice that caught their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron said impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding—it's a Philosopher's St—"
"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it! What's the matter with yeh?"
"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, actually," Harry said, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy—"
"SHHHH!" Hagrid hushed him again. "Listen—come an' see me later. I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here! Students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh—"
"See you later, then," Harry said as Hagrid shuffled off.
"What was he hiding behind his back?" Hermione questioned thoughtfully.
Hope shrugged, looking between the three. "Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"
"I'm going to see what section he was in," Ron said, having had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table. "Dragons!" he whispered, wide eyed. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide."
"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon. He told me so the first time I ever met him," Harry informed them.
"But it's against our laws," Ron added. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing if we're keeping dragons in the back garden—anyway, you can't tame dragons. It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got from wild ones in Romania."
"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain, are there?" Harry asked.
"There are," Hope said.
Ron nodded. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our lot have to keep putting spells on Muggles who spot them to make them forget."
"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" Hermione asked again.
When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, all the curtains were drawn.
"Who is it?" Hagrid called out before letting them in and quickly shutting the door behind them.
Inside, the heat was stifling. Even though it was a warm day, a blazing fire roared in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered stoat sandwiches, which they politely refused.
"So—yeh wanted ter ask me somethin'?" Hagrid asked, shifting slightly.
"Yes," Harry said, getting straight to the point. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone—apart from Fluffy."
Hagrid frowned.
"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts—s'pose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."
"Oh, come on, Hagrid," Hermione urged, her voice warm and flattering. "You might not want to tell us, but you do know. You know everything that goes on around here."
Hagrid's beard twitched, and they could tell he was smiling. Encouraged, Hermione pressed on.
"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," she said. "We were curious about who Dumbledore trusted enough to help him—apart from you."
Hagrid's chest swelled at her words. Harry, Hope, and Ron beamed at Hermione.
"Well, I s'pose it couldn't hurt ter tell yeh that..." He started ticking names off on his fingers. "Let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall—" He paused. "Professor Quirrell—an' Dumbledore himself, o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone... Oh yeah, Professor Snape."
"Snape?" Hope asked, eyebrows raising in disbelief.
"Yeah," Hagrid nodded. "Yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone—he's not about ter steal it."
The four exchanged glances, all thinking the same thing. If Snape had helped protect the Stone, then it must have been easy for him to figure out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything—except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.
"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" Harry asked anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"
"Not a soul knows 'cept me an' Dumbledore," Hagrid said proudly.
"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. He wiped his forehead. "Hagrid, can we open a window? I'm boiling."
"Can't, Harry, sorry." Hagrid's gaze flickered toward the fire.
Harry followed his eyes and then froze.
"Hagrid—what's that?" He already knew the answer.
In the heart of the fire, nestled beneath the kettle, was a huge black egg.
Hope blinked, stepping closer to the flames. "Is that...?"
Hagrid fiddled nervously with his beard. "That's—er..."
"Where did you get it?" Ron crouched over the fire for a closer look. "That must've cost a fortune."
"Won it," Hagrid admitted. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks, got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, to be honest."
"But what are you going to do with it when it hatches?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," Hagrid said, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library—Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit. It's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, and when it hatches, feed it a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here—how ter recognise diff'rent eggs. What I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
He looked absolutely thrilled, but Hermione didn't.
"Hagrid," she said matter-of-factly, "you live in a wooden house."
But Hagrid wasn't listening. He hummed merrily as he stoked the fire.
"I know it's illegal and all but just think about it, Mione," Hope said, grinning. "If we had a dragon flying around Hogwarts, that would be—"
"Wicked," she and Ron said at the same time.
Hermione shot them a disapproving look while Harry shook his head, still staring at the fire.
"That's one way to put it," he muttered.
"No, it wouldn't," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.
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So now they had something else to worry about—what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.
"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed as they struggled through their growing pile of homework night after night. Hermione had even started making revision timetables for Harry and Ron, which was driving them mad.
Then, one morning at breakfast, Hedwig swooped down and dropped a note in front of Harry. It had only two words:
It's hatching.
Ron and Hope wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to Hagrid's hut, but Hermione wasn't having it.
"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"
"We've got lessons," she said firmly.
"It's just Herbology," Hope argued. "Besides, watching a dragon enter the world would be quite educational."
Ron nodded eagerly in agreement, but Hermione wasn't budging.
She folded her arms. "We'll get into trouble, and that's nothing compared to what'll happen to Hagrid when someone finds out—"
"Shut up!" Harry whispered.
Malfoy was only a few feet away, frozen mid-step, clearly eavesdropping. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on his face one bit.
Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology, but in the end, Hermione relented. They would run down to Hagrid's hut during morning break.
The moment the bell rang, the four of them dropped their trowels and hurried across the grounds to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid greeted them at the door, his face flushed with excitement.
"It's nearly out!" He ushered them inside.
The egg lay on the table, deep cracks splintering its smooth surface. Something was moving inside, making a strange clicking sound.
They pulled their chairs up to the table, barely breathing as they watched.
A scraping noise rang out, and suddenly, the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table.
It wasn't exactly cute—Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were oversized compared to its skinny jet-black body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubby little horns, and bulging orange eyes.
It sneezed. A few sparks flew from its nostrils.
Hope clasped her hands together, practically cooing. "Oh, look at him!"
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured, reaching out to stroke its head.
The dragon snapped at his fingers, revealing a row of sharp fangs.
"Bless him, look—he knows his mummy!" Hagrid chuckled.
"Hagrid," Hermione said hesitantly, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"
Hagrid opened his mouth to answer, but then the color drained from his face. He jumped up and rushed to the window.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked.
Hagrid's voice was tight with worry. "Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains—it's a kid—he's runnin' back up ter the school."
Harry bolted to the door and peered outside. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking him.
Malfoy had seen the dragon.
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Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made the four very nervous as they spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.
"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."
"I can't," Hagrid said. "He's too little. He'd die."
"But he needs to be able to spread his wings," Hope added gently. "It's already too cramped in here for him."
They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.
"I've decided to call him Norbert," Hagrid said, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"
"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
"Hagrid," Harry said loudly, "give it a fortnight and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."
Hagrid bit his lip. "I—I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."
Hope suddenly turned to Ron, smacking his shoulder excitedly.
"Ow!" Ron muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
"Charlie!" she said.
Ron gave her an odd look. "You're losing it, too. I'm Ron, remember?"
Hope tilted her head, giving him a deadpan look as she lightly smacked his shoulder again. "No—Charlie. Your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him! Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"
"Brilliant!" Ron nodded. "How about it, Hagrid?"
And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.
The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron and Hope appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.
"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.
Hope nodded eagerly, gesturing to his hand. "It was really cool." She said, having never seen a dragon in action.
Ron glared at her. "It was not cool! I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me, he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."
Then there was a tap on the dark window.
"It's Hedwig!" Harry said, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"
The four of them put their heads together to read the note.
Dear Ron,
How are you? Thanks for the letter—I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.
Send me an answer as soon as possible.
Love, Charlie
They looked at each other.
"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," Harry said. "It shouldn't be too difficult—I think the Cloak's big enough to cover two of us, maybe three if we squeeze together and Norbert."
It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the others agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert—and Malfoy.
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There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He wasn't sure if it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey—would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.
Harry, Hope, and Hermione rushed to the hospital wing at the end of the day, finding Ron in a terrible state.
"It's not just my hand," he whispered. "Although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me—I told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me. I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match. That's why he's doing this."
Hope frowned. "Oh, Ron, I'm sorry," she said, now feeling guilty for thinking the bite was cool earlier.
Harry and Hermione tried to calm him down.
"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," Hermione assured him, but that didn't soothe Ron at all. Instead, he bolted upright, breaking into a sweat.
"Midnight on Saturday!" His voice was hoarse. "Oh no—oh no—I just remembered! Charlie's letter was in the book Malfoy took! He's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert!"
Harry, Hope, and Hermione didn't even have a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey bustled over and shooed them away, insisting Ron needed sleep.
"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told the other two. "We don't have time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we've got the Invisibility Cloak—Malfoy doesn't know about that."
When they went to tell Hagrid, they found Fang sitting outside with a bandaged tail. Hagrid opened a window to talk to them.
"I won't let yeh in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage—but nothin' I can't handle."
As they explained about Charlie's letter, Hagrid's eyes filled with tears—though that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.
"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot—jus' playin'—he's only a baby, after all," Hagrid said, wincing.
The baby dragon banged its tail against the wall, rattling the windows. The three of them walked back to the castle, feeling like Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.
They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came to say goodbye to Norbert—if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a dark, cloudy night, and they were running late because they had to wait for Peeves to stop playing tennis against the wall in the Entrance Hall.
Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.
"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," Hagrid sniffled, voice muffled. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."
From inside the crate came a ripping noise that sounded suspiciously like the teddy bear's head being torn off.
"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed as Harry, Hope, and Hermione covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and slipped underneath it. "Mummy will never forget yeh!"
How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked closer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase, through the dark corridors, and up yet another staircase. Even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.
"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.
Then, a sudden movement ahead made them nearly drop the crate. Forgetting they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at two dark outlines grappling with each other about ten feet away. A lamp flared.
Professor McGonagall, in a tartan dressing gown and a hairnet, had Malfoy by the ear.
"Detention!" she snapped. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night—how dare you—"
"You don't understand, Professor!" Malfoy protested. "Harry Potter's coming—he's got a dragon!"
"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on—I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!" McGonagall yanked him along.
The steep spiral staircase to the top of the tower felt like the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the Cloak, gasping in relief.
Hermione did a little jig. "Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"
"It's about time," Hope agreed, grinning as she joined Hermione in her dance.
"Don't," Harry advised, though he couldn't help chuckling.
Still laughing about Malfoy, they waited while Norbert thrashed in his crate. Ten minutes later, four broomsticks swooped down from the darkness.
Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed the trio the harness they had rigged up to suspend Norbert between them. Once the dragon was securely buckled in, Harry, Hope, and Hermione shook hands with them, murmuring their thanks.
At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.
They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts light now that Norbert was off their hands. No more dragon. Malfoy in detention. What could possibly spoil their happiness?
The answer was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed out of the darkness.
"Well, well, well," he whispered. "We are in trouble."
They had left the Invisibility Cloak on top of the tower.