ᴀ ᴅ ʀ ɪ ᴇ ɴ ɴ ᴇ [1]

20. raising dragons

chapter twenty

RAISING DRAGONS

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SO NOW, WE HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT: what'll happen to Hagrid, should anyone find out he's hiding an illegal dragon in his wooden hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighs, as evening after evening we struggle through all the extra homework we're getting. Hermione has now started making revision timetables for Harry, Ron and I, too. It doesn't help that whenever Sas flops down into a chair next to us after dinner, she constantly reminds us that Hermione is right; it is vital to pass these exams in order to enter the second year.

It's driving us mad.

Then, one breakfast, Hedwig brings Harry and I another note from Hagrid. I hastily unfold the paper, Hermione, Ron and Harry all watching over my shoulder, only to find two scribbled words: It's hatching. We quickly scan the Gryffindor table for Sas, and rush up to her, only to see her eyes are blue.

"What?" Sierra asks in her drawling, American accent, which only confuses me further. I'm pretty damn sure the girl laughing with Malfoy didn't have such a heavy accent, or even an accent at all. And I'm pretty fed up with Sas's lies.

"Nevermind," Harry and I say, hurrying back to Ron and Hermione.

Ron and I want to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione won't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times are we ever going to see a dragon hatching?"

"It's a once in a lifetime chance!"

"We've got lessons, we'll get in trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing-"

"Shut up!" Harry hisse, nodding his head towards Malfoy, who's only a few feet away and has stopped dead, listening. I stick my middle finger up at him, sending a clear message.

How much did he hear, though? I don't like the look on his face at all. Mind, I usually don't like the look on his face.

* * *

Ron, Hermione and I argue all the way to Herbology, and, in the end, Hermione agrees to run down to Hagrid's with us during morning break. When the greatly awaited bell sounds from the castle at the end of our lesson, the four of us drop our trowels at once and hurry across the grounds to the edge of the forest. We've given up on Saskia appearing, and so don't spare a thought for her as Hagrid greets us, looking flustered and excited.

"It's nearly out," he huffs, ushering us inside and locking the door.

The egg is lying on the table. There are deep cracks in its obsidian surface, and something is moving inside, a funny clicking noise coming from it. We all draw our chairs up to the table, and watch as the cracks grow deeper with bated breaths. All at once, there's are scraping noise, and the egg splits open. The baby dragon flops onto the table, which isn't an exactly pretty sight. It looks sort of like a crumpled, black umbrella, its spiny wings too large for its skinny, bony body. It has a long snout, tendrils of smoke curling faintly from its wide nostrils, and the stubs of horns are poking out from the top of its head. It's hideous, I'm about to say, but the words die on the tip of my tongue when it turns and looks right at me, its huge, warm eyes the colour of liquid amber bearing into me.

"It's beautiful," I breathe.

Harry turns to look at me.

"How much butterbeer have you had of late, Ada?" he asks genuinely.