Almost all newborn animals come with a natural sense of cuteness, and even the bald Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon is no exception.
When the little creature spread its wings and claws on the table, it didn't have the intimidating presence of an adult dragon. Instead, it looked more like it's throwing a tantrum.
But as soon as it opened its mouth and revealed its sharp, slender teeth, the cuteness quickly faded, and a sense of threat quietly emerged.
However, in Hagrid's eyes, this dragon, which wasn't even the size of his palm, was absolutely adorable. He quickly embraced the role of the dragon's mother, lovingly stroking its head, touching its wings—only to be greeted by a furious fireball from the little dragon.
"Look, it can breathe fire!" Hagrid said proudly, while patting the sparks from his beard.
"Hagrid," Hermione said worriedly, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgeback Dragons grow?"
"Oh, they don't grow that fast," Hagrid said fondly. "But once fully grown, they can reach 50 feet."
"50 feet!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Yeah—right now, it's just so small and pitiful, don't you think?"
Hagrid completely missed Hermione's concern. From a corner, he pulled out a barrel of brandy and some pre-prepared chicken blood, then asked, "Does anyone want to try feeding it?"
Harry and Ron immediately raised their hands in unison, while Hermione leaned back, clearly rejecting the idea.
Wade had been interested as well, but seeing how excited the other two were, he lowered his hand and reminded them, "Be careful—it has poisonous teeth."
Hagrid first demonstrated how to feed the dragon, then handed the honorable task over to the Gryffindor duo.
Wade observed for a while, satisfied his curiosity, and then suggested he should leave—the main reason being that Hagrid had made the hut so hot to hatch the baby dragon that he was sweating after only a few minutes inside.
Soon after, Hermione also came out. Wade waited for her and asked, "I thought you were going to head back to the Gryffindor common room with Harry?"
Hermione replied, "That was my original plan. But I think... um... it's better to give them some space to talk."
...
Inside the hut, Harry and Ron weren't looking at each other, taking turns feeding the little dragon, working together seamlessly without interfering with one another.
Hagrid was babbling about his love for the little creature and pondering hard about what to name it.
"Maybe I should check a book—there's always an answer in books," Hagrid muttered to himself. He rummaged through his cabinet, which was cluttered with jars and tin pots, and found an old book. Using his large fingers, he flipped through the pages, looking for a suitable name.
Harry, who was distracted while feeding the baby dragon, didn't notice that he had slowed down. Without hesitation, the little creature opened its mouth to bite!
"Careful!"
Ron quickly slapped Harry's hand away, spilling a spoonful of brandy on the table.
The baby dragon, now furious, hissed at its feeder, clearly about to breathe out a fireball. Reacting quickly, Harry shoved the remaining chicken blood and brandy mixture toward the dragon, letting it drink on its own.
The tiny, jet-black dragon dove into the drink, flapping about in a panic. But once it realized that it was surrounded by food, it buried its head and began drinking intently.
Both Harry and Ron let out a sigh of relief, and the awkward tension between them naturally started to ease.
Harry hesitated for a moment before finally saying what had been on his mind for days.
"Ron, I've been meaning to tell you... That day, I actually wanted to say something, but the club's rule is—unless everyone agrees, we can't introduce anyone new.
I thought... I'd check with the others privately first before bringing it up to the group…"
Of course, the first person he had asked had immediately shot down the idea, but Harry felt that detail wasn't necessary to mention now.
Ron exhaled and his tense shoulders relaxed. "Do you know what I thought? I figured you'd made some cool new friends and started distancing yourself from us..."
In fact, Ron had been having a hard time lately. Malfoy had even taunted him, saying, "So, has Harry Potter finally realized that some people aren't worth his time and ditched you? I have to admit, even though he's a bit thick, it's the first smart decision he's made."
Ron had been so angry that he got into another fight with Malfoy, and his ribs were still aching from it. But the physical pain wasn't as bad as the feeling of his friendship slipping away.
"No! Of course not! How could I?" Harry exclaimed, shocked, and hurried to reassure him, "You're my first friend!"
Ron immediately smiled. Curious, he asked, "So, what do you usually do in that club?"
As soon as he asked, he felt relieved—he'd finally gotten the question off his chest.
Harry explained, "SSC is a study group. Most of the time, we just work on essays together. But after dinner, Wade teaches us some spells that haven't been covered in class yet, mostly Defense Against the Dark Arts spells.
Recently, I've learned the Disarming Charm and the Shield Charm. They're really tough—I got hurt a lot trying to learn them. Do you want to learn? I can teach you."
"Is it okay?" Ron asked nervously. "Wouldn't that be breaking the club's rules?"
"No, it won't," Harry reassured him. "Wade said we're allowed to teach others... though I might not be as good at teaching."
...
As for Wade, the shifting friendships of elementary schoolers were not something he paid much attention to—he had more important things to focus on.
Early on the weekend, Wade arrived outside the Room of Requirement. He walked back and forth three times, concentrating intensely on a single thought: I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve...
A small, ancient peachwood door appeared in the wall. Wade opened the door and went inside.
The room looked like a monk's dwelling, with only a simple wooden bed, a low stool, and a stone pillar about half as tall as a person.
On top of the pillar sat a shallow stone basin, and its edges were intricately carved with ancient magical runes. Surrounding the basin was a ring of thumb-sized gemstones, their opulence standing in stark contrast to the simplicity of the room.
This was a Pensieve, a magical artifact that could store memories and thoughts, even allowing one to enter the memories and relive past events. It was imbued with powerful and complex magic. Even Professor Murray had admitted he couldn't craft a Pensieve himself.
Wade pointed his wand at his temple, softly reciting an incantation as he focused on recalling memories that had long been blurred by time.
After a moment, he moved his wand away, and a thin silver thread began to emerge from his temple. It stretched out longer and longer, drawn by the magic.
Wade carefully twirled his wand, as if gathering thread onto a spool. After a few turns, the silver strand finally broke free.
It floated gently at the tip of his wand like a spider's silk, slowly drifting toward the Pensieve. Wade tapped the surface of the basin lightly with his wand, and the silver thread fell in, swirling like mist and emitting a soft glow.
These are... nearly forgotten memories... from my past life.
Wade took a deep breath and plunged into the silvery memories.
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