Dragon Egg

Chapter 26

The Weasley brothers joked and horsed around, then quickly returned to the common room.

Harry suspected the passage might have a few more years left in it—if only the two of them could walk through it properly.

Ron was waiting by the door, practically bouncing with anticipation.

"Harry, did you get it?" The moment he saw them come in, he eagerly asked.

Harry handed him a big bag of sweets, his face expressionless. "Here."

Ron took it, looking confused.

No...

That wasn't what he'd meant.

George teased him. "Our little Ronnie's still a sweet-toothed baby."

"Dumbledore likes sweets too," Ron said, not denying it. He casually dragged someone else into the conversation to take the heat off himself.

Fred shook his head. "But he's Dumbledore."

George chimed in. "And you're just little Ronnie, the Flobberworm-level baby."

Ron waved them off and strode over to Harry. "Harry, I mean, our..."

Harry took off his hat and set it on a chair beside the fireplace. "Wait a moment. I have something to ask it."

"Thank you. It's really cold outside." The Sorting Hat shivered. "This is much better."

Harry brought over a chair and sat down. "I noticed something today."

The Sorting Hat glanced at him, waiting for him to continue. Its point drooped as it basked comfortably by the fire.

"The man whose hands I cut off had the same effect from the Blade Oil on his wounds as the last time," Harry said. "But he was human, so the Blade Oil didn't work on him."

"I remember cleaning the Blade Oil off."

The Sorting Hat replied lazily, "It can absorb certain liquids, including magical effects carried in the blood."

"Like your Blade Oil."

"You never told me that." Harry reached into the hat and pulled out a bottle of Ogre Oil. He'd brewed it all over again, and now he felt he'd wasted it.

The Sorting Hat was entirely unapologetic. "You never asked."

"How long does it last?" Harry asked seriously.

The Sorting Hat thought for a moment. "Ten years, perhaps twenty. I haven't seen that effect work in a long time."

"When Dumbledore drew this sword, he was already over sixty, but he'd never used it."

"Does it have any other effects?" Harry asked.

The Sorting Hat answered smugly, "Of course. It can cut through water and fire, and it's immune to some spells. Gryffindor used this sword to fight wizards, after all."

Harry was impressed. The best weapon he'd used could only strengthen the effect of the Aard Sign—and that had been a gift Lambert brought back for him.

The effect he liked most was, without a doubt, its ability to absorb Blade Oil.

It saved money.

How long could he keep mooching off Hagrid? Seven years at most...

Harry stood and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Come on. We're going out."

"Where? Hogsmeade?" Ron asked excitedly.

Harry glanced at him. "To see Hagrid. I couldn't get what I needed."

"They don't have it in Hogsmeade either?" Ron followed behind Harry. "Should we write to Hermione and ask her to try?"

"Hermione doesn't have any money," Harry said, shaking his head.

Ron blinked. "I thought she had plenty. She bought so many books."

"She's from a Muggle family," Harry said as he climbed out of the common room. "There's a limit to how many Galleons she can exchange each year."

"And she's too young. That stuff's contraband. We ran into a con artist in Hogsmeade."

Ron was curious. "A con artist?"

Harry recounted the story slowly. By the time they reached Hagrid's Hut, he'd nearly finished, thanks to Ron's questions.

"That sounds amazing," Ron said, his eyes full of envy.

A young wizard out for a simple outing, running into a ruthless, vicious dark wizard, then defeating him through his own cleverness.

What a fairy-tale adventure.

Why hadn't those two awful brothers brought him along? Then he'd be one of Harry's sidekicks too... No, that wasn't right—he'd be one of the brave young wizards.

Harry knocked. Fang rushed out, but as soon as he saw who it was, he tucked his tail between his legs, let out a whimper, and scurried back inside.

"Harry? What are you doing here..." Hagrid looked surprised. "Oh, it's not that you're unwelcome. I just wasn't expecting you."

"Merry Christmas," Harry said. He didn't bother with small talk and got straight to the point. "I need your help with something."

Hagrid ushered them inside. "What is it?"

"I need Bicorn horn powder and African Tree Snake skin. Do you have any?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shook his head. "Why would you want that stuff? It's all contraband."

Harry didn't try to hide anything. He answered sincerely, "The first part of Gryffindor's trial requires it."

"Gryffindor's trial?" Hagrid's eyes widened. "Oh, right. You drew the Sword of Gryffindor before you even started school. I don't have those things on hand."

Ron looked disappointed.

"But I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy some Doxy-clearing Potion," Hagrid continued. "I can look around for you. You know how it is—there are always wizards who trade in that sort of thing."

Harry took some money from his pocket—twenty Galleons—and put it on the table. "Thanks, Hagrid."

"No, no money." Hagrid blushed and hurriedly waved his hands.

Harry shook his head. "It's not for you. It's for the people selling the stuff."

Friendship shouldn't be mixed up with money. Even among the Wolf School, where everyone got along well, the work in a contract was always accounted for—mooching drinks didn't count. That was another matter.

Hagrid reluctantly nodded, then thumped his chest so hard it boomed. "All right. Don't worry, I'll get it for you at the fairest price I can."

They chatted with Hagrid for a while longer.

Harry and Ron left, politely refusing the bag of Rock Cakes Hagrid offered them. Even Witchers were helpless against that food.

The Christmas holidays were nearly over when Hagrid finally sent Harry a letter by owl.

"Did you get it?" Harry hurried inside and immediately asked.

Hagrid fumbled for words. He pointed to the table, where a wooden box sat alongside eighteen Galleons and a pile of Silver Sickles. "I could only get the African Tree Snake skin. I couldn't find any Bicorn horn powder."

Harry picked up the box and opened it. The snake skin was a dark, bluish black and very fresh; it had been shed less than a month ago.

"Thanks, Hagrid." Harry looked serious. "You've already taken care of half my problem."

Hagrid pushed the money back toward Harry. "I have an idea about the Bicorn horn powder, too. There are some in the Forbidden Forest, but they can be a little mischievous."

"And the snow's really deep right now, so they might not be easy to find. I'll need a little time."

Harry smiled faintly. "There's no rush. I'm only a first-year. I've got another six and a half years."

Hagrid was taken aback. "Harry, you should smile more often. You look just like your mother when you smile."

The Christmas holidays ended soon after.

One of the first things Hermione did when she got back to Hogwarts was seek out Harry. When she learned he'd already found the recipe for Polyjuice Potion and was only missing the final ingredient, Bicorn horn powder, her expression turned strangely gloomy.

"How long will it take Hagrid to get it?" Hermione asked, hugging her books as she read about Bicorns. "They're a four-X dangerous creature."

"I remember he isn't exactly a qualified wizard?"

"Don't worry. Hagrid can handle it." Harry waved a hand. "He's strong. At least, the Troll I fought wouldn't have stood a chance against him."

Hermione still frowned. "What if we went and stole some from Snape's storeroom?"

"I told you, that's the easiest way," Ron said, putting his hands on his hips when he heard someone else suggest the same thing.

Harry shook his head. "That's the last resort."

Hagrid was taking much longer than Harry had expected.

By the time February arrived,

he still hadn't sent word.

Harry was getting impatient. He decided to go ask in person.

As soon as Friday's classes ended, they ate lunch and hurried to Hagrid's Hut.

When they were nearly at the house, Harry stopped and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Harry drew his wand. "Something's not right."

The weather had turned warmer, yet the house was tightly shuttered, and all the curtains were drawn. It was also unbearably hot inside. Even from where he stood, Harry could feel a wave of heat washing over him.

Hermione and Ron didn't dare speak. They held their breath and followed Harry slowly toward the door.

Knock, knock—

Harry rapped on the door. "Hagrid, are you home?"

A muffled voice answered from inside. "Who is it?"

It was Hagrid's voice, and he sounded perfectly healthy. Harry relaxed. "It's me, Harry."

"Just a moment." Hagrid suddenly sounded flustered. A while later, he opened the door and let them in.

It was even hotter inside. The fire in the hearth burned more fiercely than it had in winter.

"Harry, you'll have to wait a little longer," Hagrid mumbled. "I haven't been able to..."

Harry ignored him and walked straight to the fireplace, stopping in front of it. "There's an egg in the fireplace, Hagrid. Is this your lunch? That's a pretty crude way to cook it."

"Oh... this, well... it's an egg from a very cute creature." Hagrid fidgeted, looking flustered. "I'm trying to hatch it."

"Is it a dragon egg?" Hermione asked out of the blue. "I read about it in a book. Only eggs from certain kinds of dragons need to be incubated like this."

Ron raised his voice in astonishment. "A dragon egg?"

"Hagrid, keeping a dragon is illegal! The Wizards' Convention banned private ownership of fire dragons back in 1709."

Hermione stared at Ron in surprise. She hadn't even known that. Ron, who slept through every History of Magic class, was speaking as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"My brother Charlie keeps dragons in Romania." Ron scratched his cheek.

Harry felt the dragon egg's immense vitality and magical energy. It was a very high-quality material.

"Where did you get it? When you went to buy African Tree Snake skin for me?" Harry asked, holding back the urge to reach for it.

Hagrid tugged at his beard. "No. It was just a few nights ago. I was drinking in Hogsmeade and thought I'd ask around to see if anyone had Bicorn horn powder."

"A stranger came over and asked me to play cards. It only took a few rounds before he put the dragon egg up as a bet—to tell the truth, he was just looking for a way to get rid of it."

Harry stood up and raised an eyebrow. "You bet a dragon egg? Was there anyone else besides you?"

Hagrid shook his head. "No, just the two of us. A dragon egg like that attracts too much attention."

"Tell me everything about that night." Harry walked back and sat down beside Hagrid.

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