Diospyros

Putting up with Draco Malfoy was, if Harry were to be asked in the future, the most arduous experience he ever had. As winter came and fell upon the students and December came and went, the blond boy became more and more unbearable in his resentment against Adrien for Gryffindor's Quidditch victory. Since he couldn't disturb him, it was up to Harry to deal with Malfoy's pestering.

It was silly things; sarcastic comments, blocking his path when he was walking, insulting him for some reason. He tried to push Harry out of the way once, but a brief look from Harry made him reconsider. It was also probably the only day in almost a month that had a bit of peace.

— I feel so sorry – the blonde had said once, in Potions class – for those people who have to spend Christmas at Hogwarts because their family doesn't want them at home.

He looked at Harry as he said this. Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Pansy Parkinson tried to laugh along with them, but she seemed a little embarrassed to do so. Daphne Greengrass gave the blond boy a hard look, and he seemed to wilt amidst his laughter.

Harry couldn't say he cared much. It had been a while since Draco had decided to remember the Howler Harry had received from his father on the very first day, but he had still been unable to come up with anything truly offensive. Not that it would bother him, anyway.

Adrien, however, seemed affected instead.

— Shut up, Malfoy – the Gryffindor half growled and half mocked the blonde.

Draco seemed to regain some spirit.

— Now, Potter, do you need your brother to come and defend you? You don't have the courage, do you, Potter? That's why you didn't go to Gryffindor.

This was a somewhat cunning way of using the situation to his advantage, but still childish.

— I would recommend, Draco, that you concentrate on your potion. If you focused on the same amount of language that you have, perhaps you could help add something to Slytherin's hourglass for the House Cup.

With a suitably stuttering blonde and his brother smiling, Harry went back to brewing his potion. MacDougal was quite clever in seasoning the slugs with ground nettles instead of wrapping them in leaves, so the potion ended up being advanced by almost a third of the time.

— Was it to speed up catalysis?

— No, I tried to use it to just speed up the slug's dismantling.

— But what about the reaction? – Harry asked, intrigued.

— I was going to use the nettle juice to try to correct it – MacDougal explained, showing him the pestle with the sap at the bottom. – Shall we test it and see what happens?

— I wish the cauldron explosions today would only focus on Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Longbottom. – Snape muttered, suddenly behind them. – Mixing the sap now will only make the potion reactive.

MacDougal seemed embarrassed, moving the pillar away from the cauldron. Harry still wanted to test it.

— Five points to Slytherin for resourcefulness. – Snape declared, leaving them to investigate the other potions.

Harry and MacDougal left the classroom together as soon as the class ended, and Harry came across his brother and Ron arguing with Malfoy on the stairs to the ground floor. The huge figure of the gamekeeper Hagrid was visible beyond the archway in the wall, hidden behind a huge pine tree.

— Are you trying to earn a few bucks, Weasley? Maybe you'll want to become a gamekeeper when you finish Hogwarts. Rubeus's hut must seem like a palace compared to what his family is used to.

Ron advanced on Draco just as Snape was climbing the stairs.

— WEASLEY!

Ron let go of the front of Draco's robes.

— He was provoked, Prof. Snape – explained Hagrid, letting his hairy face appear behind the tree. – Draco offended his family.

— Whatever the reason, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid – Snape said coldly. – Five points less for Gryffindor, Weasley, and thank God it isn't more. Now, let's get going, all of you.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stormed past the tree, scattering leaves everywhere with grins on their faces.

— I'll get him – Harry heard Ron promise, grinding his teeth behind Draco's back –, one of these days, I'll get him.

— I hate them both — said Adrien. – Draco and Snape.

— Come on, cheer up, Christmas is here — said Hagrid. – I'll tell you what we're going to do, come with me and see the Great Hall, it's beautiful.

Harry watched them walk out into the Great Hall together, waiting for the path to be cleared. Sighing, he drew his wand and waved it, blowing leaves out of the castle through the nearby window. MacDougal seemed to thank him, not having to dodge broken branches.

The hall ended up looking beautiful, just as Hagrid had said. Garlands of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no fewer than twelve enormous Christmas trees stood about the hall, some sparkling with snow crystals, others lit by hundreds of candles. There was plenty of French toast on the Slytherin table, which Harry was particularly grateful for.

Blaise Zabini turned out to be an interesting person to share the sweets with in Slytherin, having a good portfolio of experiments. Not that Crabbe and Goyle weren't better than the two of them combined in that department, but Zabini was more... refined in his explanations.

***

The Hogwarts Express arrived in London at around 9 p.m., long after the sun had set and a misty chill had circulated in the air. Harry might have been used to it after so many months in the icy dungeons of Slytherin, but he was out of place in the crowd of bundled-up children with red noses that poured into the station.

It wasn't difficult to spot his parents in the crowd; amidst the offensively disordered colors of the wizards, the copper-red of his mother's hair stood out very well. The strange clothes his father assumed were used by Muggles to camouflage themselves on the other side of the station were also eye-catching. Was he wearing a sweater tied around his neck?

— Harry, Adrien – their mother, Lily, greeted them as they approached. – Let's go home. Sunny made us hot chocolate today.

Adrien was a little too happy to hear that, grabbing Lily's hand within seconds. James seemed a little unsure about extending his hand to Harry, avoiding his son's eyes. Well?

The sensation of the apparation made the two boys wobble a few steps, dropping their things on the floor. Crookshanks jumped off Harry's things and stretched out, soon nestling into his favorite spot in the armchair near the fireplace, which was burning vigorously to heat the Potter Manor reception room.

Harry ended up only having time to put his things back in his room until he was called.

Lily had a tense, kind of anxious expression, while James looked a mixture of nervous and embarrassed. It was something to see.

— Harry – his father said, coughing embarrassedly. – Well... I know you were upset, but... um... I'm sorry... I'm really sorry for sending the howler, I...

It would be a funnier situation if it weren't so similar to Prof. Quirrell.

— No problem – the boy said, after some time thinking and cutting James off, who stammered to himself.

— No problem? – Now he looked a little confused behind a firm tension. – But... but you haven't answered any letters...

— What letters?

This time it was Lily who seemed surprised.

— You haven't received any letters from your father yet? – She asked, a little shocked.

— Um... actually, I haven't received any mail since school started. I hardly ever stay in the Great Hall until the post arrives. I only get the paper a few times each week because of that.

The tension seemed to turn to absolute confusion now.

— So... um... you haven't been avoiding me?

— No – the boy shook his head. – Why would I?

— But... but what about the Howler?

— I don't really care — he shrugged. — Whatever, I wasn't that surprised.

— What?

— I was surprised too when I ended up in Slytherin. I also know how you were hoping Adrien and I would go to Gryffindor, and how the houses don't get along. A howler wasn't too unexpected. Besides, I wasn't the only one who got one either. It doesn't have to affect me too much.

He couldn't say he didn't find the looks his parents were sending him throughout the holiday strange.

When Christmas morning arrived, Harry found himself being dragged along by Adrien with the sun barely having left the horizon yet, the frozen dew still covering the remaining foliage that some trees still had, plasticized against the season. Lily and James watched with smiles as their children leaned under the huge pine tree decorated with colorful Muggle plastic baubles and greenish fairy lights. Sunny placed a cup of hot chocolate next to each of them, the steam inviting them to drink.

Adrien had the biggest pile; apparently most of the Gryffindor dormitory had ended up sending him presents. Dean Thomas sent a football, Seamus Finnigan a quill case, and Neville sent something that looked like a plant shaped like a lion. Lee Jordan sent some sort of colorful headband, and the Weasley twins sent a toilet seat—which got a chuckle from James. Hermione sent a box of chocolate frogs, and Ron sent what he assumed were licorice wands. Mrs. Weasley sent a strange straw-colored sweater, and Hagrid sent a wooden flute, obviously made by himself. His godfather, Remus Lupin, had sent what he assumed was a pocket watch, and Harry's godfather, Sirius, sent a stuffed dog. Finally, there was one last package, with no name on it.

— That's mine – James said, smiling.

Adrien only took a few seconds to understand.

— I got the cloak!

Harry still found the Potter family invisibility cloak to be very interesting. Its effects are far beyond the normal effects you see out there, having lasted generations within the family without ever failing even once under the invisibility charm. He suspected that there was some runic matrix involved in sustaining the spell indefinitely.

Harry's pile was somewhat modest when compared to Adrien's. Neville sent him a package of tea herbs, MacDougal sent scented candles, and Hermione Granger had also sent him a box of chocolate frogs. Remus sent a small stuffed wolf, while Sirius sent him what he saw was (although he knew it wasn't) an innocent black-covered diary with his initials engraved in silver. For some reason he had also received a Weasley sweater, with an H sewn on the chest and made of greenish wool. Blaise Zabini had sent her something suspiciously similar to a case of cider, but Lily took it before he could look any further.

— Now, this goes in the cupboard – she said calmly, ignoring the loud “Hey!” that Harry gave and James' chuckle.

Not that Harry needed to complain. Sunny would let him into the pantry without any problem if he said he was hungry.

***

The students returned the day before term began again, with the train arriving at Hogsmeade at around 8:00 p.m. Snow covered the entire path from the station to the Hogwarts gates, like a huge white carpet covering the ground, the houses, and the trees. Statues of winged pigs greeted the students as they passed through the entrance, and Mr. Filch, the caretaker, watched over the students as they returned. Mrs. Norris was tightly wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest as if to protect her from the cold. It wasn't working, which made Harry frown at the cat's quivering whiskers. Perhaps he should speak to the caretaker later.

The black Hogwarts carriages stood ahead, imposing, ready to hold at least fifteen students each. The outside luggage rack was unlocked, but he could feel an enchantment to prevent it from being opened unintentionally. The winged and reptilian horses were still there, calmly tied to the carriages, no expression of cold, tiredness or discouragement visible on their skeletal bodies. Harry discovered that they liked meat, so he tossed them some strips of jerky he had brought from home.

The Christmas laziness still seemed to be lodged in everyone, and Harry only realized that it had passed when he saw Adrien being dragged by Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, to practice amid the continuous spring rains amid the last snow of winter, which formed large small lakes along the school grounds and the Quidditch pitch.

The school was dragging; the change from dry to wet weather had caused a small flu epidemic among the students, causing a cacophony of sneezes and watery squeaks to echo along with the professors' explanations during classes. Harry secluded himself in the library whenever classes ended, avoiding being near MacDougal, who had also caught the flu and was a suspiciously yellowish-white color.

— Harry! – Adrien, who was next to Granger and Ron, called him.

— Hello. What are you doing?

— We’re revising for the midterms — Granger said. Harry tilted his head, looking over the book she held. One Hundred Magical Herbs and Fungi ? — And you?

— I'm in medical isolation — He said lightly, sitting at the table next to them. — I’m thinking of eating in the kitchens until the flu passes in Slytherin. Malfoy had finally managed to become the threat level he always thought he was.

Adrien and Ron let out low chuckles, and all three ended up receiving a half-stern, half-unimpressed look from Granger.

— Boys — she muttered.

— You know you still have ten weeks before the exams, don't you?

— We know – grumbled Ron. – But it seems like the blink of an eye for Flamel.

— Flamel? As in Nicholas Flamel? – Harry asked. – What does he have to do with the exams?

— Do you know who Flamel is? – Granger looked shocked.

— Of course I do. We've met him before, don't you remember? He came with Headmaster Dumbledore to our house once. Dad said he came to “give a second opinion” or some such thing. But what does he have to do with the exams?

Adrien was saved from answering that question when Ron exclaimed:

— Rubeus! What are you doing in the library?

Hagrid, the gamekeeper, came shuffling in, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin coat.

— Just looking – he said in an uncertain voice that immediately piqued their interest. – And what are you up to? – He seemed suddenly suspicious. – You're not still looking for Nicolas Flamel, are you?

— Ah, we've already found out who he is ages ago – said Ron, impressively. – And do you know what that dog is guarding, it’s the Philoso...

— Shhhh! — Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. – Don’t go around shouting that, what happened to you?

— By the way, there’s a few things we wanted to ask you — said Adrien — about the other things that are protecting the Stone besides Fluffy...

— SHHHHH! — Hagrid said again. — Listen, come and see me later, I’m not promising I’ll tell you anything, mind you, but don’t go spilling the beans, students shouldn’t know about this. They’ll think I told you...

— We’ll see you later, then — agreed Adrien.

Hagrid shuffled off.

— What was he hiding behind his back? — asked Hermione thoughtfully.

— Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?

— Why is the Philosophy Stone at Hogwarts? — Harry asked abruptly, remembering its presence. Granger and Ron jumped in fright, finally recognizing him again. Adrien didn't seem very surprised.

— Eh... — Ron said intelligently. — You're not going to tell anyone, are you?

— Why would I? I don't think anyone will be able to get it anyway.

— Eh? — Again the eloquence.

— Who's the headmaster?

— Dumbledore... oh.

— Exactly.

— I'll see which section Rubeus was in – said Ron, who was already tired of working.

He came back a minute later with an armful of books and dropped them on the table.

— Dragons! — he whispered. — Rubeus was looking for stuff about dragons! Just look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland ; From Egg to Hell: A Dragon Keeper’s Guide .

— Rubeus always wanted a dragon, he told me that the first time we met — commented Adrien.

— But it’s against our laws — argued Ron. — Keeping dragons was banned by the Wizarding Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to keep Muggles from noticing us if we keep dragons in the backyard. Anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie received from wild dragons in Romania.

— But aren’t there wild dragons in Britain? – Harry asked.

— The Ministry of Magic has a hard time keeping them secret, I can tell you. Our people are always bewitching Muggles who have seen them, to make them forget.

— So what is Rubeus up to? – Granger asked.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to find that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid asked, "Who is it?" before letting them in, and then quickly closed the door behind them.

It was stiflingly hot inside the hut. And although it was a warm day, there was a log fire blazing in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they declined.

Harry was pouring himself a cup of tea when he heard the sound of crockery crashing to the floor.

— Who are you? — Hagrid asked, startled, finally noticing the boy who was in his hut.

— I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.

— Uh... how did you get into my house?

— I got in with them. — He pointed to the Gryffindors, who nodded. Hagrid looked somewhere between confused and shocked.

— It's... it's really hot, I guess... so, what did you want to ask me? — He turned to Adrien and his friends, trying to find a way to think.

Adrien took the lead:

— We were wondering if you could tell us what else is protecting the Philosopher's Stone besides Fluffy.

Hagrid frowned, then turned to Harry, scared.

— Of course I can't tell you. First, I don't know anything about it. Second, there's nothing to hide. Hogwarts is completely safe.

Harry smiled at Hagrid's attempt to hush the subject.

— I already know about the Philosopher's Stone. You don't have to pretend you don't know.

The gamekeeper seemed to relax a little, but soon regained his stubbornness:

— You already know too much. That Stone is here for a good reason. It was nearly stolen from Gringotts. I suppose you’ve already come to that conclusion. I’m surprised you even know about Fluffy.

— Oh, come on, Rubeus, maybe you don't want to tell us, but you know everything that happens around here – said Granger in a warm and flattering tone. Hagrid’s beard twitched and they could see he was smiling. – We were just wanting to really know who made the protection spell – she continued. – We were wondering who Dumbledore would have trusted enough to help him, besides you.

Rubeus’s chest swelled at the words. The boys all smiled at Hermione.

— Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you this… let’s see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some of the professors did the spells… Professor Sprout… Professor Flitwick… Professor Minerva… – he counted on his fingers – Professor Quirrell… and Dumbledore himself did something, of course. Wait a minute, I forgot someone. Oh, yes, Professor Snape.

— Snape?

— Yeah, you don't keep insisting on that idea, do you? Look, Snape helped secure the Stone, he's not about to steal it.

Harry could tell just by looking at the three Gryffindors that they didn't agree with Hagrid's idea. Well, he hadn't interacted with Professor Snape enough to vouch for his suitability either.

— You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Rubeus? – Adrien asked, anxiously. – And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even for one of the professors?

— No one knows except me and Dumbledore – said Hagrid, proudly.

— Well, that's something — Adrien muttered to the others. – Rubeus, can we open a window? I'm roasting.

— You can't, I'm sorry, Adrien — said Hagrid. Harry noticed him looking at the fire, and looked too.

— Rubeus, what is that? – Adrien asked.

Harry already knew what it was. Right in the middle of the fire, under the kettle, was a huge black egg.

— Oh – said Hagrid, fiddling with his beard nervously. - It's... ah...

— Where did you get that, Rubeus? – asked Ron, bending down to the fire to look more closely at the egg. – That must have cost you a fortune.

— I won. Last night. I was in the village having a few drinks and got into a little game of cards with a stranger. I think he was pretty happy to get rid of the egg, to be honest.

— But what are you going to do with it once it hatches? – asked Hermione.

— Well, I've been reading a bit – said Hagrid, taking a large book from under his pillow. – I picked this one up at the library: Raising dragons as a pleasure and source of income . It’s a bit out of date, of course, but it’s all here. Keep the egg on the fire because the mothers breathe fire on them, you know, and when it hatches, give it a bucket of brandy mixed with hen’s blood every half hour. And look here: how to tell the different eggs, and this one’s a Norwegian dragon. They’re rare ones.

He seemed very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

— Rubeus, you live in a log cabin – she reminded him.

But Hagrid didn't even listen. He was humming happily as he fanned the fire.

It must have been three or four days before Harry met Hedwig flying up to him in the Great Hall, handing him a short note in exchange for a slice of bacon. It was a bit scrawly, but he understood clearly: It's breaking .

It was enough to send him out of the castle as soon as the morning free period was announced by the school's enchanted siren, Adrien, Ron, and Granger having had the same idea as him. Ron and Granger argued all the way to the edge of the forest, where Hagrid greeted them at the door of his cabin, looking red-faced and excited.

— It's almost broken. — He led them inside.

The egg was on the table. It had deep cracks. Something was moving inside it; it was making a funny little noise.

Everyone pulled their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

Suddenly there was a scratching sound and the egg cracked open. The baby dragon fell limply onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge in contrast to its thin black body, and it had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubs of horns, and bulging orange eyes.

It sneezed. Sparks flew from its snout.

— Isn't he beautiful? – muttered Hagrid. He reached out to stroke the dragon’s head. The creature tried to bite his fingers, baring its sharp fangs. – God bless him, look, he knows his mother! – exclaimed Hagrid.

— Rubeus – asked Hermione –, exactly how fast does a Norwegian dragon grow? – Hagrid was about to respond when the color suddenly drained from his face – he jumped up and ran to the window.

— What it was?

— Someone was peeking through the crack in the curtains, a boy is running back to school.

Adrien rushed to the door and peered out. Even from a distance there was no mistaking it. Malfoy had seen the dragon.

The little rascal had been particularly annoying for the rest of the week, always making a smug face around Adrien and his friends. Harry's lack of reaction seemed to discourage him from trying to make that kind of expression for him, but the cold nervous face was just as ugly to look at.

The children spent a lot of time during these days trying to convince Hagrid:

— Let the dragon go — Adrien insisted. – Let him go.

— I can’t – said Hagrid. – He is very small. He’d die.

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times its length in a week. Smoke kept coming out of its nostrils. Hagrid wasn’t doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him too busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

— I’ve decided to call him Norbert –  Hagrid announced, looking at the dragon with dreamy eyes. – He really knows who I am, look. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?

Harry ended up being more of a mother to the dragon – who he discovered was Norberta – than Hagrid himself, the lazybones jumping onto his lap whenever he sat near the table and spraying him with sparks each time. Granger still seemed particularly shocked by the dragon's behavior, although much more relaxed that he was able to hold the creature while they distracted themselves. The problem was that when the concern for the baby dragon was contained, it was always replaced by the concern that others gave in their free time.

Ron and Adrien's idea of smuggling a dragon with Charlie Weasley was definitely the one he was missing.

— Prof. Kettleburn? – He questioned openly in the staff room, looking for the Care of Magical Creatures professor with his eyes.

— Yes? – An old man, more metal and band than man, raised his head at the call.

— One word, please. It's an urgent matter.

The professor happily accepted his words, following him out of the staff room and walking a little to a more secluded corner.

— Well, boy? – Kettleburn questioned.

— Um... if there was a dragon at Hogwarts, would you collect it for use in class and send it to a reserve?

Harry could see the light of realization slip across the professor's face. He waved his wand quickly in the air, a seeming privacy barrier covering them. Kettleburn's remaining eye fixed on Harry, and he asked in a very tired voice:

— What did Hagrid do this time?

***

Norberta the Norwegian Dragon proved to be a very popular pet during the seventh year's Care lessons for the next two weeks. Hagrid was quite pleased to be able to keep the little creature close, although Harry felt he should keep his distance for its own sake, considering the now equivalent size of a ping pong table that the dragon hit. Harry narrowly escaped an excessively red spark that Norberta blew at him when he tried to pet her, obviously without malice on her part.

The only person who seemed markedly unhappy about the whole situation was Draco Malfoy, who had an expression that looked very much like he was constipated. Harry had a sinking feeling that he would soon have to deal with the boy.