Hagrid looked uneasy. "Harry, is there something wrong with this egg?"
"What's wrong might be you," Harry said, patting Hagrid on the leg—he had intended to pat his shoulder, but sitting down, he could only reach that far.
Hagrid recounted the events of that evening in detail.
He had been drinking and asking around when the man approached him, joined the game, and lost about two Galleons. Out of money, the man mysteriously pulled out the dragon egg, which Hagrid easily won.
They talked about magical creatures—unicorns, Acromantulas, and Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy.
The man seemed like a fellow magical creature enthusiast.
It all sounded… perfectly normal?
"So, what did you put in the corridor on the fourth floor?" Harry suddenly asked, catching Hagrid off guard. "Acromantulas or the three-headed dog?"
"Fluffy. He's very loyal—" Hagrid answered instinctively but froze halfway through his sentence. Realizing what he had said, he stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair, which clattered loudly to the ground. "Harry, how do you know that?"
"Dumbledore told me," Harry replied, motioning for Hagrid to calm down.
Hagrid steadied the chair and sat back down. "Him? Why would he tell you about that?"
"I have an agreement with him. It's not important," Harry said, turning his gaze to the dragon egg. "What matters is that man approached you on purpose."
Hagrid finally understood, his face turning pale. "You mean… he wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"
"It's probably the same person who tried to rob Gringotts last time," Ron added.
"So it's Professor Quirrell?" Hermione concluded.
"No, no, no," Hagrid shook his head emphatically. "How can you suspect a professor like that? First, it was Snape, and now it's Quirrell…"
Harry interrupted, "This is something Dumbledore and I have already confirmed."
Hagrid opened and closed his mouth, speechless.
He didn't know anything…
Why did Dumbledore tell Harry everything?!
"I think you'd better inform Dumbledore about this," Harry suggested earnestly.
Hagrid hesitated. "But… what do I say about the dragon egg?"
"Hagrid!" Hermione sounded exasperated. "It's a dragon. It's manageable now, but once it hatches, it'll grow as big as your house in just two months!"
"And it'll breathe fire, burning your home down," Ron chimed in.
Hagrid looked pitifully at Harry.
"I've seen a few potions that require dragon eggs," Harry said enthusiastically. "If you give it to me, I can take care of it for you. I can pay you twenty Galleons, thirty if you'd like."
Hagrid was horrified. "No, it's a dragon—a living creature!"
"It hasn't hatched yet," Harry countered, already considering potion recipes. "A dragon egg is quite rare."
Hagrid stood up again and pulled Harry, chair and all, farther away from the egg. "No, Harry. You're right—I need to report this to Dumbledore honestly."
"Fine," Harry said regretfully. "But if Dumbledore lets you keep it, can you give me some dragon scales or blood?"
Hagrid hesitated, looking into Harry's expressionless eyes. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. "If I can keep it, I'll give you a little."
"Just a little."
As long as the dragon egg wouldn't be used for potions, Hagrid could compromise.
They stayed a while longer but eventually had to leave, unable to endure the oppressive heat. They said goodbye and were sent off with a sack of slightly singed rock cakes.
Outside, Ron took a deep breath of cool air. "It was suffocating in there."
"Wait, Harry. Weren't we here to get ingredients?" Hermione stopped after a few steps, suddenly remembering.
Ron froze, slapping his forehead. "Damn, I forgot all about that after seeing the dragon egg."
"Hagrid's got bigger worries than us now," Harry said, shaking his head. "He really wants to keep that dragon."
"So, what do we do?" Hermione frowned. "Are we just going to steal from Professor Snape?"
Harry interrupted her, speaking softly, "Hagrid mentioned seeing traces of bicorns in the Forbidden Forest. I'm going to take a look."
"No. The Forbidden Forest is too dangerous," Hermione rejected the idea immediately.
"This is better than facing Professor Snape," Harry countered.
The thought of Snape's greasy hair and bat-like demeanor sent a shiver down Ron's spine. "I'd rather face a dragon than deal with Professor Snape."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue but sighed instead. Deep down, she'd rather encounter another troll in the bathroom than risk Snape's wrath—at least in the bathroom, she knew Harry would come to save her.
"Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "You know how sharp I am. If there's danger, I'll run. My legs won't freeze up."
Hermione gritted her teeth and stomped her foot in frustration, letting out a huff.
Harry was fine in every way… except for that mouth of his.
Back in the dormitory, they reviewed the information about bicorns again.
Bicorns were malevolent magical creatures. True to their name, they had two horns—not like a bull, goat, or deer, but two straight, unicorn-like horns. However, unlike the unicorn's rightward spiral, both of the bicorn's horns spiraled to the left.
They were fat, horse-bodied, with cloven hooves. They enjoyed eating leopards and cows but favored kind and loyal husbands—such as Arthur Weasley.
If Snape ever married, he might end up on a bicorn's menu too.
They didn't have a specific habitat preference; they lived wherever food was abundant.
Their dung had a bitter, foul odor—a common trait among carnivores.
Late that night, after Neville and the others had fallen asleep, Harry donned the Invisibility Cloak and slipped out of the dormitory.
He hadn't planned to bring Ron or Hermione, and they hadn't insisted—even though Ron had looked at him during dinner with a level of longing he didn't even direct at chicken drumsticks.
Filch's footsteps were heavy, and Mrs. Norris, his cat, had a distinct smell.
There were no other professors patrolling.
Night wandering during term time was easier than Harry had expected.
He quickly reached the Forbidden Forest, where he spotted Hagrid carrying a lantern, patrolling the edge of the woods—likely watching for reckless students or creatures straying from the forest.
Fang seemed to sense something, cowering behind Hagrid until Harry moved away. Only then did it cautiously creep out from under Hagrid's legs.
As a forest teeming with magical creatures, the Forbidden Forest was a fascinating place for Harry.
He hadn't walked far when he saw a cluster of sleeping Horklumps. With their pink caps and bushy beards, they looked like magical plants, but they were classified as magical creatures.
When gathered in large groups, they could pose a nuisance to wizards.
Harry quietly picked two of them—they were ingredients for healing potions.
At the edges of the forest, he spotted traces of ordinary wildlife: deer, bears, and wolves.
But deeper in, such creatures disappeared entirely.
He found fresh tracks—hoofprints that might belong to either centaurs or unicorns. The books he had read didn't provide enough information to distinguish between them.
There was also a swarm of tiny, glowing blue insects, nearly imperceptible individually but collectively exuding powerful magical energy.
These were Billywigs, a 3X-rated magical creature. A sting from one could cause uncontrollable levitation.
Harry encountered many other creatures—Thestrals, Murtlap mice—but no bicorns.
Near the end of the curfew, Harry returned to the dormitory. After less than two hours of sleep, he awoke to the sound of others stirring.
"Harry? You're awake?" Ron was the first to notice.
Harry nodded.
Ron leaned closer. "How did it go?"
"No luck," Harry whispered. "But no rush—we'll take our time."
Every weekend night, Harry ventured into the Forbidden Forest. Each trip yielded a bounty of herbs and materials—once, he even found a unicorn hair.
But as for the bicorn, there was no progress.
Ron and Hermione were worried about it, but soon their attention was diverted.
January seemed to be just a buffer period after the holidays.
By February, the pace of every class accelerated dramatically.
In Transfiguration, they began learning to transform objects into animals. They had to turn a block of wood into a rat—a challenge that left most students groaning in frustration.
Many couldn't even make the wood resemble a rat.
Professor McGonagall was strict.
After seeing Harry's rapid progress, she grew increasingly impatient with the slower students, assigning a seven-inch essay—except for Harry, who only needed to write three inches.
This sparked a new wave of complaints from the Gryffindors.
While they could copy Hermione's homework, having only one source wasn't as convenient as having two.
Charms class shifted to spell precision.
The students soon realized why Professor Flitwick had spent two entire lessons on magical theory at the start of term.
The theory they had dismissed now became a formidable obstacle.
They had to practice casting charms with pinpoint accuracy—such as unlocking only one of two doors without affecting the other.
Seamus was arguably the most talented first-year after Harry. Even Hermione couldn't match him. He managed to unlock only one door—although the other one exploded.
Potions class, under Snape, turned into a nightmare for everyone.
They moved on from basic herb-based recipes to potions requiring magical ingredients, which were far more complex.
Even identical ingredients could exhibit vastly different magical properties.
The recipes on the board didn't guarantee success.
Even Harry made occasional mistakes, which Snape pounced on with biting sarcasm.
Herbology became the most chaotic class.
Magical plants were far more troublesome than potions ingredients.
Professor Sprout spent every lesson rescuing students entangled by magical plants—or rewarding those who helped her with extra points.