Chapter 55: Norbert Will Spend a Lifetime Healing His Childhood Wounds

[He really loves raising creatures.]

Alya was lounging lazily on Hagrid’s bed, reminding Cohen, surrounded by a multitude of empty Butterbeer bottles.

[Still, I take back what I said earlier—Butterbeer is actually quite nice.]

A thick blanket was spread across the floor, suggesting that Hagrid had chosen to sleep on the ground himself—a completely unsurprising arrangement.

For now, however, Hagrid’s attention seemed to have shifted entirely to the dragon egg.

"But I don't know anything about this sort of thing—Cohen, could you help me borrow some books from the library? About hatching dragons?" Hagrid asked hopefully. "I never thought I'd actually get my hands on a dragon egg—it looks so beautiful..."

The dragon egg wasn't actually all that "beautiful." It looked like an oversized duck egg with a black, slightly dirty-looking shell.

"Alright, I'm heading to the library to return some books later anyway," Cohen agreed. "I'd also like to see what a fire dragon looks like."

Actually, Cohen’s main interest was in the strength of a dragon's soul. Fawkes, whom he had seen at Dumbledore’s place last time, possessed a soul strength identical to Dumbledore’s; perhaps a fire dragon's soul strength would be equally off the charts.

As for whether to eat it or not, that was another matter entirely—Cohen felt that killing a newly hatched baby dragon just for about 1% soul completeness was a bit unreasonable; he might as well go mug someone for a lollipop.

Cohen was efficient at borrowing books, as Madam Pince was already accustomed to his frequency of three visits a week. As long as the books weren't from the Restricted Section, her approval process was quite swift.

This time, he checked out *Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland*, *From Dragon Egg to Inferno*, *A Guide to Dragon Rearing*, and *Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit*.

Madam Pince's sharp eyes found no traces of fire spatters on Cohen—she considered the very notion absurd; an eleven-year-old wizard couldn't possibly get his hands on a dragon egg.

By the time Cohen returned to Hagrid's hut, Hagrid had already eagerly constructed a small nest and a brewing cauldron to serve as an incubator.

"It takes two weeks to hatch a dragon," Cohen reminded Hagrid, whose enthusiasm had gotten the better of him. "Besides, they don't live in nests made of cotton fabric; that stuff will burn your wooden house right down."

Following the descriptions in *Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland*, Hagrid then determined that the egg was a Norwegian Ridgeback.

They would need to place the egg over a fire—because a mother dragon breathes on her eggs—and then wait for the baby to crack the shell, feeding it a mixture of brandy and chicken blood every half hour after hatching. ("Do dragons have brandy for saliva?" Cohen doubted the book's accuracy.)

In its egg state, the baby dragon had no soul; Cohen would have to wait until it hatched to take a look.

And hatching would take a full two weeks...

So the heavy responsibility of keeping the fire burning during this period fell entirely upon Hagrid.

The tail end of the holiday flashed by, and it was time for classes to resume once more.

Upon her return, Hermione heard about Harry and the others sneaking out for night wanderings over several consecutive nights, and expressed a motherly sort of anxiety about it ("What if Filch catches you!").

Even more unsettling things awaited them—

On the weekend of the first week of term, Harry had a Quidditch match against the Slytherin team.

The kicker was that Snape was going to be the referee.

"Snape as the referee?!" Ron asked in disbelief during breakfast one morning. "Has someone gone mad? When has he ever refereed a Quidditch match?!"

"He definitely has ill intentions." Hermione was now firmly suspicious of Snape as well. "Perhaps you could teach us that counter-curse, Cohen, just in case he tries something against Harry again..."

"Saints do not fall for the same trick twice."

Cohen shook his head, knowing full well that the one causing trouble wasn't Snape, but Quirrell and himself.

With Snape acting as referee now, Quirrell would certainly not dare to act recklessly—a referee had a clear view of almost the entire pitch and could easily spot anyone using dark curses to sabotage the game.

"Since he didn't succeed last time, there's no way he'll fail using the exact same trick again."

Harry and his friends fell into deep distress.

"Don't play in the match," Hermione said with concern.

"Just say you're sick?" Ron suggested.

"Or pretend to break your leg?" Hermione asked.

"Actually break your leg," Ron said, looking as though he had made a solemn resolution.

"I can break your leg for you," Cohen said with certainty. "You'll only need to pay me ten Galleons, though I'll probably get detention for a week for beating up a classmate."

With that, Cohen drew his wand.

"Ha, thanks a lot," Harry replied flatly to Cohen.

"But I can't do that. There's no backup seeker on the team. If I quit, Gryffindor won't even have a team to play this match."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all prepared for the worst, but the Quidditch match went just as Cohen had predicted—Harry didn't suffer any accidents.

Furthermore, Dumbledore was present this time, making Quirrell even less daring to meddle.

Without external interference, the match ended in barely five minutes; Harry caught the Snitch with speed that felt like he was using hacks.

"He's cheating!"

Some unnamed Slytherin captain shouted again—last time, he had screamed that it was unfair because Harry had caught the Golden Snitch in his mouth.

Yet...

"A win is a win, isn't it?"

Cohen casually defended Harry:

"This match was all about hard work and sweat, wouldn't you say, Harry?"

"Indeed so." A grin that could not be suppressed hung on Harry's face.

Harry's joy lasted for half a day, perhaps even less.

Because when Cohen saw Harry in the common room again, his face was full of melancholy.

Hermione and Ron beside him wore peculiar expressions as well.

After Cohen pulled up a chair and sat down, they began whispering to him about what Harry had encountered after the match:

Following the game, Harry had intended to return his broom to the broom shed, but he had spotted a hooded figure quickly leaving the castle and sprinting toward the Forbidden Forest.

"I hopped on my broom and followed them, and I found out it was Snape and Quirrell," Harry said worriedly. "I heard their conversation—Snape was blackmailing Quirrell, forcing him to help steal the Sorcerer's Stone."

"Shall we assassinate Snape?" Cohen raised an eyebrow.

"If we can," Harry yearned.

"Forget it. You couldn't solo Snape even five years from now," Cohen shattered Harry's fantasy. "Instead of worrying about that, you'd better worry about the homework you've dragged out until this week."

In the second week, triggered by the weekly refresh of homework, Harry resumed his unbridled Hogwarts detective lifestyle.

Determined to figure out the magic protecting the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry brought his band of friends to visit Hagrid, currently their only source for information related to the Stone.

Inevitably, the enormous dragon egg hidden in Hagrid's hut was discovered by the other three.

"Shh—" Hagrid pulled the four of them into the hut. "Don't breathe a word of this. This belongs to me and Cohen—"

"Hagrid, you've already exposed me," Cohen reminded him with a strained expression, though the impact would be minimal.

"Oh—sorry..." Hagrid clumsily covered his mouth.

"You're raising a dragon and you didn't even tell us!" Harry asked Cohen in disbelief.

"It's illegal, Cohen!" Hermione worried anxiously. "And Hagrid lives in a wooden hut!"

"We'll move it somewhere else once the dragon gets bigger." Cohen had already thought of a way out for the creature. "Rest assured."

"I'm keeping track of the time," Hagrid said, practically casting their legal discussions to the wind. His sole concern now was when the dragon egg would hatch. "Just two more days and the little one will break out of its shell—you lot certainly won't want to miss that—you can be right there with me to be the first faces the baby sees when it's born!"

Let's just hope the little dragon wouldn't be too traumatized by the hideous face of a mixed-blood evil entity right after birth...

Cohen felt that Norbert would need a lifetime to heal from the psychological shadow left behind at birth.