Raising Dragons? What a Good Idea

Chapter 19: Raise a Dragon? Great Idea

In Hagrid's understanding, Giant-tailed Beasts were just like cattle or sheep—born to be food.

But other magical creatures were his precious darlings, so naturally, they couldn't be eaten.

Yet what Brook said seemed to make sense too.

Why were Giant-tailed Beasts treated as food when they were also magical creatures?

He figured it out quickly.

What he loved most were dragons, but he'd eaten dragon meat before too.

Eating meat didn't seem to conflict with loving these magical creatures.

"Alright, if I come across any dead magical creatures, I'll bring them back."

"By the way, don't just bring the meat—bring the whole thing back, and I'll handle it. Also, things like snakes, spiders, scorpions, and centipedes are all edible too," Brook reminded him.

Hermione's face instantly filled with horror.

Hagrid's eyes bulged like brass bells.

"You want to eat spiders, scorpions, and centipedes..."

"Just bring them, and I guarantee they'll taste amazing."

Hagrid nodded.

He didn't have high standards for food.

As long as it was edible, he was fine with it.

But he was always happy to help others.

He buried the corpses of magical creatures only out of respect for life and habit.

Since Brook wanted to eat them, then let him eat.

Hermione didn't eat much; she was full quickly.

She listened to Brook and Hagrid chat while practicing using chopsticks.

Hagrid was either high on food or drink.

His talking speed was almost rivaling Hermione's.

"I've raised a lot of magical creatures, like Fluffy—a Three-headed Dog. I could've taken you to see him, but I lent him to Dumbledore a couple days ago..."

He suddenly froze, as if remembering something, and changed the subject.

"What I really want to raise is a dragon," he said, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "But raising a dragon privately is illegal."

Brook had some vague memory of dragons.

He thought he'd seen them in a movie, but couldn't recall which one.

Not that it mattered.

Though they couldn't compare to the divine dragons of Great Xia, they were big enough.

If he could raise one, he'd actually be a bit interested.

"Hagrid, you said private dragon-raising is illegal, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

Hagrid's face was already flushed red.

"What if we raised a dragon under a company's or Hogwarts' name? Didn't Dumbledore discover twelve uses for dragon blood? Raising a dragon for academic research—that's perfectly reasonable."

Hagrid jolted as if electrocuted, snapping wide awake.

His eyes bulged like brass bells.

"You... what did you say?"

"Given Dumbledore and Hogwarts' standing in Britain, applying to raise a dragon for academic research shouldn't be too hard, right?

As for taking care of the dragon, Dumbledore definitely wouldn't have time, so it'd have to fall to you. That way, you could raise a dragon legitimately, couldn't you?"

"This... can this really work?" Hagrid was thrilled.

The bucket-sized cup in his hand trembled uncontrollably, spilling quite a bit of wine.

"Give it a try," Brook shrugged.

He didn't know much about the Ministry of Magic's nature, but Dumbledore being called the greatest White Wizard of this world wasn't for nothing.

What was power?

Dumbledore was power.

Sure, he usually seemed like a smiling old man who loved tricking people.

But if he really wanted something done, who would dare disobey?

Forget his personal strength—just the title of Headmaster was enough to make him stand firm.

Academic oligarchy was the real mainstream in modern society.

"But I don't want to bother Professor Dumbledore. He's busy, and I don't want to waste his time over something this small."

Hagrid really wanted to raise a dragon, but he didn't want to cause trouble for Dumbledore because of it.

Brook rolled his eyes.

How busy could the headmaster really be?

He probably just slept wherever he felt like it.

Brook's eyes darted around, and another idea popped into his head.

"Then I'll handle it. I'm pretty interested in raising dragons too."

"Really? Thank you, Brook!"

Hagrid got so excited that he scooped Brook up in a hug.

Good thing Brook's physique was on par with an adult's, or he'd have ended up in the hospital wing for a couple of days.

"But one thing, Hagrid—you have to remember this. Don't tell anyone that I told you about wanting to raise a dragon." Brook warned.

Hagrid didn't get it, but he nodded seriously, swearing he'd never say a word, even if it killed him.

It wasn't until nearly curfew that Brook and Hermione had to leave.

Before they went, Hagrid gave each of them a white "bandage."

This kind of bandage, when wrapped around a wound, had excellent hemostatic effect.

Brook didn't refuse.

He'd also spotted a rug in the hut woven from the same material.

Probably nothing too valuable.

He felt its soft texture, still carrying a natural warmth.

He planned to turn it into a scarf and give it to Hermione as a Christmas gift.

Right before curfew, Brook and Hermione made it back to the Gryffindor common room.

As soon as they entered, Hermione couldn't help asking.

"Brook, do you really want to raise a dragon at Hogwarts? I've read about dragons—they look terrifying. What if they hurt the younger students?"

"Those aren't things we need to worry about. If Dumbledore agrees to let us raise a dragon, he'll take every precaution to make sure it doesn't hurt anyone."

"So are you going to talk to the headmaster?"

"I can't talk to him directly."

"Then how..."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan."

Brook had earned two more lottery chances today.

One from petting the cat, and the other from [Exploring Hagrid's Hut].

That was why he'd volunteered to visit Hagrid in the first place.

But those vegetables were a real surprise—even more worth celebrating than the lottery draws.

Still, he didn't spin the wheel right away.

For one thing, he didn't really need anything at the moment, so it didn't matter if he drew or not.

For another, it was better to save up the chances.

Maybe he could pull something big.

Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a nightmare for Brook.

The whole classroom reeked of a strong garlic smell.

Asgardian Power had boosted his physical abilities, but it also sharpened his senses.

So that garlic odor hit him right in the head.

Even though he always ate garlic with meat, and couldn't do without it in noodles or dumplings, being wrapped in that smell was pure torture.

This was the first time he insisted on sitting in the very last row, and not even Hermione's anger could change his mind.

He didn't hear a word Professor Quirrell said all class.

His brain was already filled with garlic.

As soon as the bell rang, he bolted out of the classroom before Quirrell even dismissed them.

He gasped in the fresh air outside.

Until he found a way to deal with the garlic smell, he wasn't going to another Defense class.

No one could talk him into it.

They could expel him if they wanted.

(Little Author always felt that the way the original book handled Norbert and the Hippogriff was way too casual.

Dumbledore acted like some pushover that anyone could step on whenever they were unhappy—it made no sense.

So here, the White Dark Lord is the White Dark Lord. No matter who shows up, it doesn't matter.)