After Professor McGonagall issued a notice prohibiting the use of magic during the holidays, the students began their final preparations to leave. They packed their wardrobes, swept everything on their desks into their trunks, and sat on the bulging cases with great effort, struggling to lock them shut.
The castle was full of students searching for misplaced items. It was only during packing that many realized they had lost hairbands, Chocolate Frog cards, or notebooks. Anthony heard Neville was once again searching for his toad, Trevor, who appeared determined to disappear at the worst times.
Despite the term winding down, the Weasley twins had somehow already cost Gryffindor twenty house points in advance for next year. Although they miraculously passed Divination, Fred Weasley was among the few students who failed his Herbology exam after knocking over a pot of Bubotuber plants, flooding half the greenhouse with its sap.
The twins had previously promised Anthony they would pass all their subjects (except Astronomy and History of Magic) in exchange for a bag of Vixen eggs. Now they were dealing with the consequences of breaking their promise.
"If we promise to pass Herbology next year, could we have this year's points reinstated?" Fred asked hopefully.
Passing by the staff table during lunch, he was waved over by Professor McGonagall, who calmly informed him of the bad news. Anthony, seizing the moment, took a slice of treacle tart from Professor Flitwick's plate while turning to watch McGonagall's reaction.
The other professors looked on with amusement. With fewer people in the hall than usual, the conversation was clearly audible.
As exams had ended and the end-of-year feast was over, students found themselves with ample free time. Most seniors went to Hogsmeade for dates, while juniors bought candies and snacks from the older students. Common rooms in every house were piled high with food and drinks, leaving many reluctant to visit the Great Hall for meals.
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly, though she firmly said, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley."
"In that case, could we borrow some points from this semester, Professor McGonagall?" George asked cheekily.
"Gryffindor wasn't going to win the House Cup anyway," Fred added.
Professor Sprout chuckled, but Professor McGonagall frowned and replied sternly, "No."
...
Anthony encountered Neville before the students departed. Neville was clutching Trevor tightly—Trevor looked none too pleased—while attempting to lift a heavy trunk. Dean Thomas was helping on the other end, his face flushed with effort.
Anthony lightened the trunk with a flick of his wand, shrinking it to the size of a handbag.
"Professor Anthony!" Neville exclaimed. "When are you leaving?"
"Not until all of you are safely on your way," Anthony replied with a smile.
Hagrid was preparing to ferry the students across the lake in boats, and in the meantime, Anthony stayed at Hagrid's cabin to tend to a particularly irritable baby dragon. The dragon had grown rapidly, becoming stronger and more unruly. The old copper kettle used to cover it was nearly useless.
Hagrid had enlarged the kettle and weighed the lid down with slabs of bacon. However, the dragon's constant smoke-blowing left the bacon charred and inedible.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione visited Hagrid before leaving. They were curious about the enormous, smoking kettle banging around in the cupboard but were soon distracted by a Monster Book of Monsters that scuttled out from under Hagrid's bed. Hagrid enthusiastically encouraged them to inspect the book. Ron left with a shiny red nose for his trouble.
"He can't be serious," Ron said, rubbing his nose. "He wants that as a present?"
"I think Hagrid might actually mean that," Harry replied hesitantly.
"On the bright side," Hermione chimed in, "I know what to get Hagrid for Christmas. I was thinking of a Magizoology book set. I could've given it to him this year, but I thought he might prefer candy. A book set would be perfect!"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, Hagrid knows what Magizoology books are. He just doesn't—oh, Professor Anthony!"
"Good evening, Mr. Weasley. Good evening, Potter, Granger," Anthony greeted them warmly. "All set to head home? Please give my regards to Arthur and Molly. I haven't heard from them in a while."
Ron's expression turned slightly uneasy.
Ron said reluctantly, "Professor, my mum asked us to ask you if you'd like to visit our house during the holidays." He glanced at Anthony, who seemed a bit surprised, and quickly added, "She refused to write a formal letter about it, saying it's the kind of thing you ask casually in person. I told her this wasn't a good idea, and she also said she knows professors are busy. We don't even have anything special at home—"
"Okay," Anthony said.
Ron stared at him, wide-eyed. Anthony repeated, "Yes, I'd love to. I haven't visited another wizard's house before. Is there anything I should bring?"
"No, you don't need to," Ron replied. "Fred and George said you helped them get their owl."
"They earned it themselves," Anthony corrected. "You know, Muggle Studies organized a practical activity. They adopted the owl from a pet rescue center."
"Pet shelter?" Hermione interrupted, her interest piqued. "Which shelter?"
Anthony shared the name and address of the rescue center and added, "I think it's an excellent place for Muggle Studies activities. Professor Burbage mentioned she'd like to organize another trip there next year."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
"And you, Potter?" Anthony asked. "What are your plans for the holidays?"
Harry's smile faded. "I'm going back to my aunt and uncle's," he said.
"Hey, listen, you can come to my house too," Ron said quickly. "No, you have to come. My mum's going to be overjoyed. She already likes you a lot. And you too, Hermione—you have to come."
"That sounds like a wonderful summer plan," Anthony said, smiling. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Weasley. I'll send Molly an owl to arrange a time."
He bade farewell to the trio and continued toward Hagrid's hut.
Behind the cottage, the yard was overgrown with flourishing plants. The pumpkin flowers were already blooming, and the fertile soil had encouraged hollyhocks and primroses to sprout. Hagrid, preoccupied with caring for the dragon, hadn't had time to tend to the garden.
As Anthony walked, he overheard Ron say, "Seriously, Harry, you have to come to our house. We'll have loads of fun."
"You can't just think about fun!" Hermione interjected. "Don't forget there's homework. And don't you dare ask me for my essays at the end of the holidays again, like you did at Christmas."
Harry laughed. "Of course, Ron, I'll come. The Dursleys are dying to get rid of me. They'll probably mix me in with the kitchen waste and dump me out the door at eight o'clock tonight."
Anthony smiled as he reached Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door.
...
"Henry, you're finally here!" Hagrid exclaimed with a tone of relief. "Norbert's nearly starving!"
The Norwegian Ridgeback, which Hagrid had affectionately named Norbert, snorted a large puff of smoke from his nostrils. The young dragon floundered on the ground in frustration, and as Hagrid attempted to open the door, Norbert burned the leg of a nearby chair.
The three-legged chair wobbled precariously, as though uncertain whether to topple over.
BANG!
Norbert's tail swept across the chair, sending it crashing onto its back.
"Oh, you little rascal," Hagrid chuckled, reaching out to pick up Norbert. The dragon immediately turned and bit Hagrid's hand, but Hagrid simply smiled and placed him back on the table. Handing a dead mouse to Anthony, Hagrid began instructing him.
"Hold the mouse by its tail," Hagrid said, "and gently dangle it over Norbert's head. Shake it a little, like it's still alive..."
Norbert's fiery orange eyes locked onto the mouse. He fluttered his wings and stretched his neck before snapping up the mouse with precision. Anthony quickly released the tail, allowing the dragon to tear the mouse apart.
"Oh, Henry, you shouldn't have let go," Hagrid said with a laugh. "You can hold on to the tail and play tug-of-war with him a bit. In the wild, mother dragons do that. It builds their hunting instincts and strengthens their wings."
The young dragon tilted its head back, swallowing a large chunk of the mouse without chewing. It pinned the mouse's remains with its sharp claws, exhaling a cloud of black smoke and a small puff of flame from its long nose in satisfaction.
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Why are you training him to hunt? Do you want him to hunt Fang?"
Hagrid looked a little uneasy. Stroking his beard, he said, "Well, Henry, you know, Norbert's a dragon. He should know how to hunt."
"Dragons hunt humans in the wild," Anthony reminded him.
"Oh, not Norbert," Hagrid said quickly. "Norbert won't do that. He's just a baby. And I'll teach him not to prey on humans."
Anthony couldn't help but think that Hagrid's experience with Aragog might have given him the wrong idea.
"Hagrid," Anthony said carefully, "I have to remind you. While Acromantulas and dragons are both XXXXX-class creatures, there's a significant difference. Acromantulas can speak human language; dragons cannot. You might have been able to reason with Aragog, but reasoning with a Norwegian Ridgeback is... highly unlikely."
"I know, Henry, I know," Hagrid said, his tone softening. "I can't keep Norbert forever... I know I'll have to say goodbye to him someday. But not now. He's just too little to hurt anyone." To prove his point, Hagrid extended his hand to Norbert. The dragon bit his finger, but no blood was drawn.
"See? Just a baby," Hagrid said, gesturing toward the teapot. "He lives in a teapot."
Anthony gave him a skeptical look. "A teapot that has been magically enlarged to the size of a cauldron."
"But it's still a teapot," Hagrid insisted with a grin. "Anyway, you know how to feed him now! Once an hour. I'll be back as soon as I can!"
With that, Hagrid strode toward the door, pausing to glance back at the little dragon with a look of pure affection.
Norbert had already devoured the first mouse, skin and bones included, and was now pressing his nose to the table, sniffing around for a second, his wing spikes gleaming sharply in the light.
...
Anthony sighed and pulled another dead mouse from the trunk, but he soon realized he didn't actually need to feed Norbert by hand.
With just a thought, the dead mice began to levitate out of the box. However, Norbert seemed to have picked up some quirks from Hagrid—if he noticed a mouse crawling directly toward his mouth, he would lose interest entirely and start searching for something else to eat.
Since Hagrid's dog Fang was tied up in the yard, Anthony was somewhat concerned Norbert might decide to go exploring.
To keep Norbert entertained, Anthony made the mouse mimic the stiff, jerky movements of a real creature trying to escape. Predictably, Norbert pounced with gusto, flapping his wings and tearing into the fake prey with his sharp, tiny teeth.
Soon, Norbert discovered that the "mice" could rotate around him even after being ripped apart. It was as if an endless parade of zombie rodents awaited him. Each time he finished one, another appeared, crawling just out of reach.
The little dragon was thrilled. It coughed, attempting to spit fireballs, trying to incinerate its odd quarry. When successful, it would take a few charred bites before spitting them out in disgust.
Anthony quickly learned that once a mouse was charred, he could no longer manipulate it. The necromancy animating the "mice" didn't apply to ash and charcoal.
After consuming an entire box of mice, Norbert's belly was visibly bloated. He seemed much calmer, sprawling across the table with his black wings spread out like a strange, oversized moth.
Anthony chuckled. "Why did Hagrid call you Norbert?"
Norbert turned his head toward him, puffing a large plume of smoke from his nostrils. The whirring noise was unexpectedly loud.
"You can bark?" Anthony said in surprise. He'd never heard Hagrid mention this before and had assumed dragons were largely mute due to all the smoke.
Norbert whimpered softly and began crawling toward Anthony. He raised his head, fixing Anthony with his intense orange eyes as though contemplating something.
Anthony stood up. "What now? You want another box of mice?"
But Norbert had already made up his mind. Without warning, the little dragon spit a stream of fire at Anthony, burning a large hole in his sleeve. If Anthony hadn't dodged in time, his arm might have been reduced to ash.
"Norbert!" Anthony exclaimed, patting out the smoldering fabric. "Is this how you thank someone for feeding you?"
The dragon simply tilted his head, his expression almost smug.