"Whose letter?" Hermione asked, leaning in curiously.
"Hagrid," Ted replied.
"Hagrid? What did he say?" Harley asked, chewing on her meatloaf.
Ted spread some strawberry jam onto his bread and read aloud, "Looks like something's about to hatch."
The group paused for a moment. Ron, mid-bite, yanked the chicken leg bone from his mouth, blinking in confusion.
"Wait... who's about to be born?"
Ted gave him a knowing look. "Norbert."
Ron's eyes widened as realization hit. "Oh! You mean—" He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his words.
Hagrid had named the yet-to-hatch dragonling Norbert.
Ted half-expected him to choke on his food in shock.
"Let's go!" Harley shoved the rest of her patty into her mouth, wiped her hands on her robes, and stood up.
"But—I haven't finished eating!" Neville protested, his voice barely intelligible through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
Before he could argue further, Ron and Jerry grabbed him by the arms and practically dragged him away from the table.
The six of them slipped out, careful not to draw any attention. But someone noticed anyway—Draco Malfoy.
From his seat at the Slytherin table, he had been watching them closely. He wasn't about to let another one of their secret adventures slip by without him finding out what was going on.
With an arrogant smirk, he nudged Crabbe and Goyle—who were still stuffing their faces—and motioned for them to follow.
Though every time he got too nosy, it usually ended with him getting hexed or humiliated, Malfoy was nothing if not persistent.
As they rushed toward Hagrid's hut, Ted realized that more than a month had passed since they first saw the dragon egg. He had almost forgotten about it.
Dragon eggs did take quite a while to hatch. It was already May 5th—nearly five weeks since Hagrid had gotten it.
They picked up the pace, eager not to miss the moment.
After all, most people would never witness a dragon hatching in their lifetime.
Most people hadn't even seen a baby chick break out of its shell, let alone a fire-breathing beast.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
...
Knock knock knock!
The door to Hagrid's hut creaked open, and the half-giant peeked out. "Ah, yer here! Quick, come in—it's startin'!"
The group squeezed inside as Hagrid ushered them toward the fireplace, his excitement practically radiating off him.
"I noticed it shakin' this mornin'. Been gettin' stronger ever since. Knew it was time! Luckily, I found Anzu near the Forbidden Forest and had him fetch yeh lot."
Hagrid lifted the lid of his makeshift furnace, revealing the dragon egg nestled within the glowing embers.
Ted eyed it warily. 'Good thing it hasn't turned to charcoal.'
The egg trembled, rocking every few seconds as if something inside was eager to burst free.
Then—crack!—a faint sound echoed through the hut.
"Did ya hear that?!" Hagrid gasped, his eyes wide with excitement.
"I heard it! I saw it!" Ron pointed eagerly at a thin crack forming along the shell.
"Hagrid, take it out! It can't stay in the fire!" Ted urged.
"Right, right!" Hagrid scrambled to grab his thick dragon-hide gloves—the same ones that could probably be turned into a full-sized hat for Ron or Jerry.
With utmost care, he lifted the egg from the embers and placed it on the table.
More cracks spiderwebbed across the shell, and the faint sounds of "kak kak kak" filled the air.
Then, a small, pointed snout broke through.
"It's comin'! It's comin'!" Hagrid practically had tears in his eyes, as if he were watching his own child being born.
Bit by bit, the newborn dragon wriggled out of its shell, breaking free on its own without any help.
And then… there it was.
The little creature was far from majestic. In fact, it looked downright odd—a scrawny, wrinkled thing, like a bat with a long tail.
Its black, scaly body was covered in tiny bumps, giving it the appearance of a slightly burnt rag.
Ron and Jerry exchanged skeptical glances.
This is it? their faces seemed to say.
But even if it wasn't exactly fearsome yet, a dragon was still a dragon.
Five minutes after hatching, it was already crawling across the table, making tiny screeches—and when Hagrid reached out to touch it, the little thing coughed up a small burst of flame, barely the size of a candle's flicker.
"Ahh, look at 'im!" Hagrid's eyes shone with admiration. "A Norwegian Ridgeback! Ain't he beautiful?" He reached out again, his massive fingers trembling.
Fwoosh!
Another flame sputtered forth—this time, slightly bigger. It singed a small patch of Hagrid's beard.
"Oh, don't be like that, Norbert! Yeh're a good boy, don't get all fussy now!" Hagrid cooed, completely unfazed.
Ron, however, looked like he was about to be sick. "Yeah, I've changed my mind. I definitely ate too much at lunch."
Ted turned his attention to the remaining dragon eggshells scattered on the table.
"Hagrid, do you mind if I take some of the eggshells?"
Hagrid waved a hand dismissively. "Go ahead! I heard they're good for potion-makin'. Take what yeh need."
Ted wasted no time scooping up a decent amount.
Dragon eggshells were rare, and he knew they had a multitude of uses—not just for potions, but for enchantments as well.
Maybe even… modifications to the prosthetic hand he had been working on.
Of course, he had no plans to replace his own limbs, but it was always good to be prepared.
Meanwhile, the others were still captivated by the tiny dragon, watching as it gobbled down pieces of meat and let out adorable, fiery sneezes.
Only Hermione seemed to be concerned.
"I read that Norwegian Ridgebacks develop their fire-breathing abilities quite early. By one to three months old, they can already breathe proper fire."
Ted nodded, adding, "And in less than a month, Norbert will grow to the size of a full-grown cow or horse. And then..."
At his words, everyone fell silent.
Slowly, they glanced around Hagrid's small wooden hut, as if already envisioning the destruction a rapidly growing fire-breathing dragon could cause.
Hagrid's expression froze.
"Uh-oh…"
At that moment, a loud caw echoed outside the window. "Caw caw! Look who's snooping—Malfoy, Malfoy the Peeping Tom!"
Anzu, the mischievous raven, swooped down from above, flapping its impressive wingspan of nearly a meter as it dive-bombed Draco Malfoy. Squawking wildly, it pecked at his blonde hair, sending the Slytherin boy and his two lackeys into a panicked frenzy.
Through the window, Harley and the others watched as the Malfoy trio ran for their lives, flailing their arms as if warding off a horde of Dementors.
Neville chuckled but still looked a little uneasy. "You think Malfoy will tell on us?"
Ted waved a hand dismissively. "Even if he does, who's gonna believe him? Telling on students is one thing, but which professor is actually going to take his word over Hagrid's?"
Sure enough, Malfoy didn't go straight to the professors. But the little snake couldn't keep his mouth shut either. He bragged to his Slytherin housemates, claiming he had witnessed a real dragon hatching with his own eyes.
He conveniently left out the part where Anzu had given him a hard peck on the head.
Malfoy: Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is to be attacked by a bird when you're just trying to spy on your enemies?!
Unfortunately for him, his audience wasn't impressed. Most just humored him with halfhearted nods and skeptical glances.
"Sure, Malfoy, a dragon. Next, you'll be telling us you fought off a troll with your bare hands," one Slytherin sneered.
Even Pansy Parkinson, normally his biggest supporter, rolled her eyes. She had already heard Malfoy's dragon story five different ways, and at this point, she half-expected him to start adding explosions and dramatic slow-motion effects.
Meanwhile, the group of six quickly noticed that Malfoy had taken up a new hobby: very bad espionage.
He was tailing them everywhere, but his tracking skills were so terrible that he might as well have worn a neon sign that read I'm spying on you!
They had to put an end to it.
So, the counterattack began.
That evening at dinner, Malfoy once again tried to impress his Slytherin table with his dragon tale, embellishing it even further.
"The egg cracked open with a loud BOOM, fire shot up, and then—"
"What, did the dragon come out holding a bazooka?" Ron muttered under his breath, causing Jerry to snicker.
"Oh no, Malfoy," Ted suddenly interrupted, leaning closer with a look of deep concern. "Are you having dragon dreams? That's serious! You might need a Dreamless Sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey before you start hallucinating in class."
Jerry nodded sagely, playing along. "It's tragic, really. To think a young boy could lose his mind so early in life."
A few Gryffindors around them burst into laughter. Malfoy, now fuming, turned red as a Howler. "You—! You filthy Mudblood and freak!"
Before he could get another word out, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Slytherin loses 20 points!"
Professor McGonagall had materialized behind him like a ghost, her stern expression freezing Malfoy in place.
"Mr. Malfoy, how dare you use such language! Two weeks of detention. Report to my office after dinner."
Malfoy gaped like a fish out of water. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, realizing there was no way out of this mess.
Ron, still holding a drumstick, turned to Ted and Jerry with a cheeky grin. "If you two keep this up, Malfoy's gonna drop dead from stress before we even reach fourth year."
Ted shrugged. "Then maybe he should learn to cope better."
Jerry smirked. "I wish him a long and healthy life—so we can keep messing with him."
The two clinked their goblets together in a mock toast, while the Great Hall buzzed with laughter and whispers.
And Malfoy? He stormed off, muttering curses under his breath, plotting his next revenge—one that, as usual, would backfire spectacularly.
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Word count: 1671
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