Arthur's casual remark was enough to distract Harry from worrying about his own safety. After all, Dumbledore was protecting him.
But Arthur's reminder about "too many failing grades" hit Harry square in the chest.
"Come on, Ron. Let's get to the library and revise!"
Ron: ???
Truly, nothing tortures an academic slacker more than being forced to study. But for the sake of not flunking his finals, Ron dragged himself up and went with Harry.
As for Hermione, she had finished her revision schedule early—so she could spend more time with the unicorn.
And Arthur? He didn't even take the exams seriously. When you could literally handcraft Philosopher's Stones, first-year exams were nothing more than child's play. He yawned, stretched, and decided a nap sounded better.
He had been busy lately. Between alchemy research and exploring the Lands Between, his progress had slowed. And Caelid… oh, Caelid was a nightmare.
Malenia's Scarlet Rot had turned the land into a festering wasteland. Fungi and corruption clung to everything; sometimes even the creatures themselves were crawling spores. The air was choked with mold.
Thank Merlin for the Bubble-Head Charm.
If not for that, Arthur would've dug a tunnel straight to Nokron to speed up Ranni's quest, just to avoid breathing the rot.
Just recently, he'd cleared out the town of Sellia. From there, the road south led toward Redmane Castle. Unlike his earlier explorations, Arthur no longer wandered aimlessly. He would light a Site of Grace, clear out the surrounding nodes of interest, and move on. Efficiency over sightseeing—the red-and-white rot-soaked landscape was far too oppressive to linger in.
He swore to himself: once he dealt with his brother-in-law, he would never return to this cursed place.
June arrived, the sunniest month in Britain—and exam month at Hogwarts.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the castle, talking as they went.
"I can't believe so much material didn't even appear on the exam," Hermione lamented. "All that memorizing, wasted."
Harry and Ron, on the other hand, were delighted the tests hadn't been harder. They weren't about to argue with her—especially since it had been thanks to Arthur's help that they survived exams at all.
When they'd first seen Hermione's "exam notes," they were struck silent. She had underlined practically the entire book. Out of desperation, they'd thrown themselves at Arthur's mercy.
Annoyed but unable to shake them off, Arthur had personally marked out their exam focus. After all, he was a master teacher, once a student of Preceptor Seluvis. With his guidance, Hermione was already leagues stronger than her book-counterpart. Picking out a few first-year exam points? Child's play.
And sure enough, during the exam, Harry and Ron realized nearly everything Arthur had marked had shown up. Having been carried through by Hermione's cousin, they weren't about to complain.
As for Arthur himself, he had dashed off early to his garden to tinker with alchemy.
During the Potions exam, he had asked Snape an innocent-seeming question:
"How can one purify a potion to make it stronger—even transform it?"
He hadn't mentioned his Stones, of course. Just used potions as a cover.
Snape had stared at him like he was a fool and said only:
"Why not start by using better ingredients?"
That had been Arthur's eureka moment.
Of course! Instead of trying to refine impurities, why not begin with higher-grade vitality and souls?
And where could he find such things? The Lands Between were crawling with demigods—Marika's brood, Radagon's brood. Each one carried the very essence Arthur required.
He had been blind, chasing "purification" when the answer was simply better raw material.
Now enlightened, he dove into his garden, intent on crafting vessels worthy of holding divine souls and life force. Ranni would need nothing less.
Meanwhile, Harry was floating on air. Exams were over, and with the burden lifted, his mind was sharper. Thoughts he'd previously dismissed now clicked into place.
Why had Hagrid wanted a dragon? And how did a dragon egg just "happen" to land in his hands?
And why would someone even bring such an egg to a pub, of all places, as a wager?
The pieces fit together in his head. All he needed was proof.
Harry bolted toward Hagrid's hut, dragging Ron and Hermione along, words tumbling from his mouth as he explained his suspicions.
He found Hagrid playing his flute, mourning the absence of little Norbert.
"Hagrid, the man who gave you the dragon egg—did you see his face?" Harry blurted.
"No," Hagrid replied. "He kept his hood up the whole time."
"What about his voice? Did it sound familiar?"
Naïve Harry didn't realize—voices could be easily disguised in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.
"Nope. Nothing special. He seemed nice enough, though. Said he was worried I wouldn't know how to care for a dragon. I told him, 'If I can look after Fluffy, I can handle a dragon.'"
"Wait—did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry pressed.
"Of course. Even a magical creature dealer doesn't often see a three-headed dog. I told him the trick to taming beasts is getting them calm. Like Fluffy—you play him music, and he goes right to sleep."
Hagrid froze, realizing too late what he had just admitted.
"I… I shouldn't have told you that." He groaned in regret.
If Arthur had been there, he would've applauded. Not because Hagrid had confessed to Harry and the others—but because the man didn't even realize he shouldn't have told the stranger in the first place! Even Dumbledore would've sighed and muttered, "Thank you for your service…"
The three young wizards had already grasped the gravity of the situation. Without another word, they turned and sprinted back toward the castle, desperate to find Dumbledore.
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