"I'm more inclined to think they're actually two entirely different creatures," Henry said, gently correcting Cho Chang's comparison. "The translation is a convenient approximation at best. In reality, the Eastern dragon and the Western dragon are distinct animals with distinct natures. I prefer to call the Eastern variety by its proper name: Lóng."
"Your Highness is remarkably well-informed," Cho Chang said with genuine admiration. "It's difficult to believe you're only twelve."
Henry smiled and steered the conversation back toward the more immediate concern. "Come to think of it, do you think Hagrid went to the library to research actually keeping a dragon?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," Harry admitted with a sigh. "The longing in his eyes whenever he's mentioned dragons has always been completely sincere."
"But it's illegal," Ron said immediately. "Everyone knows that an international ban on dragon keeping was passed at the 1709 Wizarding Convention. If someone were raising a dragon in their back garden, it would be virtually impossible to conceal from Muggles, and taming one is extraordinarily dangerous. You should see the burn scars on Charlie's arms. Those are from working with wild dragons in Romania."
"Are there wild dragons in Britain?" Harry asked, clearly surprised.
"Of course," Ron said. "Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks both live here. Half the Ministry's time goes toward concealing their existence from Muggles, wizards are constantly having to Obliviate anyone unlucky enough to catch a glimpse."
"So what exactly is Hagrid planning?" Hermione asked with visible concern.
"I'd wager he's already got his hands on one," Harry said. "Or he's very close to it."
An hour later, they were knocking at Hagrid's door.
Cho Chang hadn't joined them, she wasn't as closely acquainted with Hagrid as the others, and though Harry had extended a rather enthusiastic invitation, she had declined politely.
When Hagrid finally opened the door, he did so only after calling out "Who is it?" in a careful, cautious voice, markedly unlike his usual immediate welcome. He ushered them inside quickly and shut the door behind them.
The cabin was stifling despite the mild spring weather outside, the fireplace roaring as though it were the depths of January.
Hagrid made tea and offered ferret sandwiches, which everyone present declined with varying degrees of diplomacy.
Henry noticed the fire almost immediately: a large pot sat over the flames, and nestled within it was an egg, unmistakably large, unmistakably unusual.
A dragon egg.
"Hagrid," Ron said, crouching beside the fire to examine it more closely, his tone carrying the knowing quality of someone who already understood the answer, "what exactly is that?"
"Ha—that's, well..." Hagrid stroked his beard with visible discomfort.
"Where did you get it?" Ron pressed. "It must have cost an enormous amount."
"I won it," Hagrid said, though he shifted his weight with the manner of a man who knows the conversation isn't going his way. "Last night, in the village, I was having a drink with a stranger, and we got into a card game. To be honest, I think he was eager to be rid of it."
Henry remained slightly apart from the group, his gaze fixed on the egg while his thoughts moved quickly.
That stranger was almost certainly Quirrell, or rather, the one directing Quirrell. Why would he give a dragon egg to Hagrid? To distract him? To create a useful complication? Or to exploit Hagrid's deep affection for magical creatures toward some other end entirely?
The precise motivation was unclear, but one thing wasn't: this hadn't been generosity.
"Hagrid," Henry said carefully, "what did that person look like? Can you recall any details?"
Hagrid considered the question. "He wore black robes with the hood pulled up, I couldn't see his face. His voice was... very soft and slow, as though he considered every word carefully before saying it."
"How slow?" Hermione asked.
"He drew everything out, like speaking came with some effort. Perhaps English wasn't his first language." Hagrid scratched his beard. "But he was pleasant enough company. We had several drinks, a good card game, and I came away with that." He gestured toward the egg with obvious pride.
"A dragon!" he added, unable to suppress his enthusiasm any longer. "A real dragon, who wouldn't want the chance?"
He seemed entirely delighted with himself, prodding the fire contentedly and beginning to hum under his breath.
"Hagrid," Hermione said with measured patience, "you do live in a wooden house."
Hagrid showed no sign of having heard her.
On the walk back to the castle, the group debated the likely consequences of Hagrid's dragon ambitions, what would happen if he were discovered, who would be notified, what penalties applied.
Henry listened, turning a different question over in his mind.
"Your Highness, what do you think?" Hermione asked eventually, glancing at him.
"Have you considered," Henry said, "that being discovered keeping a dragon might actually be among the lesser concerns here?"
Harry looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Think about what Hagrid told us," Henry continued as they walked. "That stranger bought him drinks, played cards with him, spent real time cultivating his goodwill. How did a stranger happen to know that Hagrid has a lifelong passion for dragons?"
Ron frowned. "That's... a good point, actually."
"You know Hagrid's character," Henry said. "He's genuinely warm and genuinely incapable of keeping secrets. If someone wanted to draw information out of him, what would they do? And what kind of information would be worth paying a dragon egg to obtain?"
"It would have to be something important—" Harry began, then stopped abruptly. Something shifted in his expression. "Oh no," he said quietly. "Oh no. If Hagrid had a few drinks and was in a good mood, he'd talk about anything. He'd talk about Fluffy. He'd tell that stranger exactly how to get past him."
He turned and broke into a run toward Hagrid's hut without another word.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a swift glance and followed at a run.
Henry remained where he was, watching the three of them disappear through Hagrid's door. His gaze drifted back toward the hut where that enormous egg sat warming by the fire.
Dragons were remarkable creatures, extraordinary, really. It would be a genuine waste for it to end up shipped off to Romania before anyone had the chance to do something more interesting with the situation.
He stood there for a moment longer, an idea forming quietly at the back of his mind. Perhaps there was something worth discussing with his father, a formal initiative, perhaps.
The royal family's first meaningful foray into the wizarding world, beginning with something as memorable as a dragon conservation effort on British soil.
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