Chapter 95: Hatching
“Expelliarmus!” Neville shouted, and Hermione’s wand flew from her hand, landing on a nearby pillow.
“Got it!” Hermione cheered, not bothering to pick up the wand right away—she rushed over and threw her arms around Neville.
“Brilliant, Neville!” Theo said, clapping forcefully, then helped Hermione retrieve her wand and hand it back.
Neville finally broke into a smile. “I practiced it at home. My grandmother was thrilled—she said even my father didn’t manage a Disarming Charm in his first year!”
“Is that a new wand?” Michael asked, eyeing Neville’s wand closely.
“Yes,” Neville said proudly, showing off his new companion. “Cherry wood, unicorn hair. Mr. Ollivander said it’s perfect for me.”
The first time a young wizard chooses their wand—the strange, electric feeling of finally finding their other half—was a memory etched into every witch and wizard’s heart. One by one, the others ran their fingers over Neville’s wand, nodding with certainty. “He’s going to be an excellent spellcaster.”
As they laughed and chattered, the heavy door of the Umbrella Room slid open.
Neville turned—Harry had entered, brows furrowed, and he immediately called out, “Harry! You’re here too!”
“Hi, Neville,” Harry said, hurrying forward. “Oh, Hermione—great, you’re here! Michael, have you seen Wade?”
“He went to the library to borrow books. Should be back any minute,” Michael replied. “You need him for something?”
“—It’s Hagrid,” Harry said. “He asked me to invite Hermione, Neville, and Wade to his hut. For tea.”
Gamekeeper? Michael raised an eyebrow slightly.
Most students at Hogwarts had seen Hagrid’s hut from across the lawn, but few had ever ventured close. To them, the towering, broad-shouldered Hagrid looked terrifying. Some even thought he was just a castle servant—many didn’t even know his name.
In fact, Hagrid’s name was mostly associated with the Weasley twins, who were often dragged out of the Forbidden Forest by him—usually after some reckless stunt.
It was surprising that Harry got along so well with him. But why invite Wade?
At that moment, Wade walked through the doorway, arms full of books. Upon hearing the news, he set the books down and the group headed off together toward Hagrid’s hut.
Along the way, Harry explained: “Hagrid says—there’s a dragon egg about to hatch. He wants us all to see it. After all… not many people get to witness a Fire Dragon’s hatching firsthand, right?”
Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Harry’s voice dropped as he spoke.
“I can’t even believe he knows it’s a Fire Dragon,” she muttered, frustrated. “He lives in a wooden hut!”
“Hermione—please,” Harry whispered urgently. “Not today. He’s been looking forward to this all week.”
Hermione clenched her jaw, but gave a reluctant nod.
At the entrance to the hut, Harry knocked. The door swung open, and Hagrid beamed with excitement.
“Come in, come in—you’re just in time!” he said. “The little one’s about to break free!”
Harry stepped inside—then froze.
Ron was already seated inside, his head turned toward the table, quickly averting his gaze as soon as he saw them. He stared intently at the dragon egg, as if studying the intricate patterns on its shell.
Hermione glanced from one to the other, utterly confused.
“Come on in, don’t just stand there!” Hagrid said, waving them in with a broad sweep of his hand, shoving both of them inside without hesitation.
Then, lowering his head to Wade, he added warmly, “I’m glad you’re here, Wade. Few get to see a baby dragon hatch. I know you’ll be fascinated, won’t you?”
“Of course, thank you for the invitation, Hagrid,” Wade replied with a smile. He walked in, ignoring the stiff, awkward atmosphere around the others, and took a seat on an empty chair beside the table, eyes locked on the dragon egg as it cracked with soft, rhythmic crack-crack sounds.
It’s a dragon!
Even if it was a Western lizard-dragon, who wouldn’t want to witness this?
As he settled in, Wade thought he caught a glimpse of something odd. He looked up—and saw a long, slender strand of soft white hair dangling from the ceiling, hanging among a cluster of copper kettles, like some kind of tribal ornament.
In Hagrid’s messy little hut, the white hair gleamed with an unusual, almost sacred sheen.
Hermione, eager to break the silence, asked, “What kind of animal is that hair from, Hagrid?”
“Oh, unicorn tail hair,” Hagrid said casually. “I pulled it off a dead one in the forest and hung it on a branch.”
He didn’t seem to care much—until he noticed Wade staring.
“Oh, Wade,” he said, “you’re studying Alchemy, aren’t you? Take it. I’ve got more if you need it.”
With that, he tore off a thick clump and shoved it into Wade’s hands.
Wade recoiled. “This is too precious, Hagrid! A full unicorn tail hair costs ten Galleons!”
Ron, who had been scowling in silence, nearly fell off his chair. He stared at the white strands—what he’d mistaken for a horse’s tail—his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
The Weasley family had seven children, and life had always been tight. Ron had worn hand-me-down robes, used old wands and textbooks, and even his pet was a grumpy old rat his older brother had discarded. He’d never had more than one Galleon in his pocket at any time.
“Not worth much,” Hagrid said, shaking his head. “I find them all the time in the woods.”
He forced the hair into Wade’s hands.
Hagrid’s reasoning was simple, though complicated in feeling: the night the Potters died, he’d been the one to pull baby Harry from the rubble, cradling him in his arms. That moment had planted in him a deep, instinctive sense of responsibility toward that fragile, helpless child.
When he’d personally fetched Harry from the Muggle world on his eleventh birthday, that bond only deepened. To Hagrid, Harry was like a son.
Now, knowing that Harry had been cared for by Wade—learning new spells, gaining confidence—Hagrid had long wanted to repay that kindness, in some small way. And when he saw Wade showing interest in something he happened to have, he didn’t hesitate. He gave it freely.
Hagrid might not have been able to explain these feelings clearly—even to himself—but Wade sensed them.
He glanced at the oblivious Harry, then quietly accepted the gift.
Gifts aren’t measured by price, he thought. And I’ll find a way to repay him in time.
“Look! It’s coming out!” Hermione suddenly gasped.
The egg cracked open with sharp, brittle sounds. A small white nose poked out first—then, with a struggle, a black baby dragon emerged, its spiky wings flapping awkwardly against the table with a soft thud. From its nostrils, a few sparks burst out like tiny flames.
(End of Chapter)
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