Harry Potter 01 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

‘Professor Quirrell – an’ Dumbledore himself did somethin’, o’ course. Hang on, I’ve forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape.’
    ‘Snape?’
    ‘Yeah – yer not still on abou’ that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he’s not about ter steal it.’
    Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything – except, it seemed, Quirrell’s spell and how to get past Fluffy.
    ‘You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you, Hagrid?’ said Harry anxiously. ‘And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?’
    ‘Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,’ said Hagrid proudly.
    ‘Well, that’s something,’ Harry muttered to the others. ‘Hagrid, can we have a window open? I’m boiling.’
    ‘Can’t, Harry, sorry,’ said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.
    ‘Hagrid – what’s that? ’
    But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.
    ‘Ah,’ said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard. ‘That’s – er …’
    ‘Where did you get it, Hagrid?’ said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. ‘It must’ve cost you a fortune.’
    ‘Won it,’ said Hagrid. ‘Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.’
    ‘But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?’ said Hermione.
    ‘Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,’ said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. ‘Got this outta the library – Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, ’cause their mothers breathe on ’em, see, an’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here – how ter recognise diff’rent eggs – what I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare, them.’
    He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn’t.
    ‘Hagrid, you live in a wooden house, ’ she said.
    But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.
    *
    So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.
    ‘Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life,’ Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making revision timetables for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them mad.
    Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It’s hatching.
    Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn’t hear of it.
    ‘Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?’
    ‘We’ve got lessons, we’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what Hagrid’s going to be in when someone finds out what he’s doing –’
    ‘Shut up!’ Harry whispered.
    Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn’t like the look on Malfoy’s face at all.
    Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology, and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid’s with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the Forest. Hagrid greeted them looking flushed and excited.
    ‘It’s nearly out.’ He ushered them inside.
    The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.
    They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.
    All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped on to the table. It wasn’t exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body and it had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.
    It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its