The Hatching Dragon Egg

Percy's words of accusation froze.

To be precise, almost everyone in the entire Great Hall was like that now, unable to speak.

Beneath the azure sky, a beautiful silhouette appeared.

To be honest, the Hogwarts uniform wasn't ugly.

But it didn't do much to accentuate the body's curves—aside from the four houses' signature colors and crests, it was just plain, stark black.

And now, within that plain, stark black, a touch of pale purple emerged.

This dress seemed quite expensive, enchanted, with light flowing across it.

Moreover, the girl wearing it was stunningly beautiful.

Gemma had clearly dressed up with great care.

A small face that could be held in one hand, a blend of heroic spirit and softness, thin lips painted with pink lip balm.

Her loose tea-colored hair was interwoven with a few braids adorned with delicate silver ornaments.

Her bare skin was snow-white, her long neck, arms, and well-proportioned hands seemed more captivating than the magical gown itself.

Her collarbones, knees, elbows, arches, toes... all were a beautiful pale pink, exquisitely delicate.

That straight, fair long leg seemed to ripple with a watery sheen as she walked.

As such a beauty walked over to Harry, Hermione began to feel inadequate.

But Harry frowned, "Why waste so much effort dressing up? I could just give you a punch instead."

He was telling the truth—the gleaming long table under his elbow and the mirror-like floor were the masterpieces of his [Super Cleaning Fist].

And when used on a person, it was a super makeup technique.

Even the bronze-level makeup spell he'd drawn from Lockhart couldn't compare.

The wax he applied wasn't real wax, but a magical coating.

In fact, Ron now had a habit of deliberately rubbing against the wax when Harry was [Cleaning].

Hearing Harry speak like that, Hermione felt a surge of joy.

—Could it be that Harry is cold to her because of me? This old woman must be angry, right? I wouldn't be.

Gemma wasn't angry. The usually cold girl spoke softly, a rare tenderness in her voice, "That only shines under lamplight, dazzling in the day. Our date is at 7, in the evening."

Hermione, who had been feeling down, was overjoyed.

—I know the truth about the date; this woman doesn't. I win!

"I can add some light. My fists aren't inconvenient things." Harry raised a fist half the size of Gemma's head. "This light isn't harsh; it's morning light—soft but not weak, bright but not glaring. Not just pretty, it also has the effect of driving away dark creatures."

Harry's response made Hermione even more excited. She began to fantasize about Harry's big fist appearing on Gemma's annoying face.

Draco saw Hermione trembling and asked, "Granger, what's wrong? If you have a cold, you can ask Madam Pomfrey for a potion."

"No need. I have [Healing and Disease-Curing Fist] for illnesses too."

Hermione snapped back to reality, only to see the big fist from her fantasy right in front of her. But instead of retreating, she leaned in, her voice as faint as a mosquito's, "I... I can take it."

Instead, she looked blissful.

"I can too."

—This bucktooth is a formidable rival!

For the first time, Gemma, who had only considered Tonks a threat, took Hermione seriously.

Harry gave two solid punches to both of them.

Hermione's spirits soared. She immediately opened her bag and started taking notes.

Hogwarts' second volume king had activated!

Gemma radiated glory. Even in the dim corridors, she was dazzling, exuding an aura as if resting by a spring lake in spring, undisturbed by mosquitoes, only gentle breezes and soft light.

But to some senior Slytherins who delved into dark magic, it was as if vampires in the shadows had seen the sun, and they quickly recoiled.

"Ah~, the great undefeated king." "Even the faint light you grant can drive away the living dead in the darkness."

"We humble creatures on the ground." "Fred and I wonder if we might share in your glory."

Fred and George jumped out from somewhere, speaking in exaggerated recitative.

[[Twin Jesters] wish to bask in the glory of the great Savior. Please bestow it generously! Reward: 1 EXP.]

Harry simply gave them two solid punches.

"Ah, George, I'm glowing!" "Great lord of light, would you satisfy your faithful followers' curiosity?"

"You and the Night Goddess." "Where will you go?"

Fred and George had finally revealed their intentions.

Gemma's outfit had already given away that she and Harry would be leaving Hogwarts today for a date.

In fact, it wasn't just the two of them now—everyone in the Great Hall wanted to know where Harry and Gemma would go for their date.

To the mysterious Bania Black Forest?

To Castelobruxo School of Magic deep in the tropical rainforest?

"That's up to Dumbledore," Gemma said. "Harry asked the headmaster to prepare a secret date spot for us. I don't know where we're going either."

"'I don't know where we're going either'?"

After Gemma left, Hermione slammed her book shut with a thud and mimicked Gemma's tone, her face dark.

"You just—" Ron started to say something, but Draco elbowed him, stopping him with a look.

Anyone with eyes could see that Hermione half genuinely wanted to take the chance to learn, and half didn't want to watch Gemma, who was more dazzling and flawless.

"Why don't we go to Hagrid's place?"

Draco suggested. He wanted to see the dragon egg again.

Maybe because his name was also tied to dragons, he was utterly obsessed with them.

"Rubeus, put your back into it! Hurry! I can't wait!"

"Professor Kettleburn, me too! One more!"

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, in the innermost clearing.

An old man with white hair, missing his right hand and left leg, was cheerfully waving his wand.

With each wave, the stacked logs in front of him flew up and drove into the dirt.

The towering half-giant was sweating profusely, constantly reinforcing arm-thick logs with hemp rope and hammering the tops, as if building a fence.

Just five minutes passed.

A circular fence—no, to be precise, a two-meter-high wooden wall large enough to hold a basketball court—was already finished.

The wall was light-tight and neat, hard to believe it was done in a rush.

But Hagrid was still very dissatisfied. "Isn't this too small? Norbert the lad will live here."

The old man wearing a movable wooden prosthetic shook his head. "You have to trust Dumbledore's magic. This is just a temporary home for the lad to get through his moody, rebellious adolescence."

"A dragon... right here at Hogwarts. Now I don't have to keep running to the dragon reserve whenever I have free time."

Like Hagrid, this old man—the current Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, Silvanus Kettleburn—was also a crazy enthusiast of high-risk magical creatures.

But he didn't have Newt's affinity and restraint, nor Hagrid's physique.

The result was that he set the record for sixty-two probation periods during his tenure, nearly burned down the Great Hall with Ashwinders, and was frequently seriously injured.

In the end, he was left with only one hand and one leg.

Yet even so, he never changed his ways.

Not long ago, a Welsh Green Dragon burned off his wooden prosthetic, forcing him to ask Dumbledore for a new one.

"Hagrid?"

In front of the tightly shut little wooden cabin, Draco kept knocking on the door. From inside came only Fang's excited barking and the crackling of burning wood.

"He just left it in the cabin? And left alone?"

"Relax, that egg still has at least a week before it hatches. I, the Great Ron, swear on Fred's life."

Seeing Draco getting worked up, Ron quickly reassured him.

Crack—!

A crisp cracking sound came from the cabin, along with Fang's terrified barking.