Chapter 52: The Dragon Egg

The chatter in the room stopped dead, as if someone had hit a pause button.

Hodge Blackthorn pricked up his ears, catching the faint sound of something hitting the floor. Then, the cabin door creaked open wide, a wave of heat rushing out, revealing Hagrid's flustered face.

A faint rustling came from inside.

Hagrid leaned against the doorframe, his eyes darting nervously. "Oh, it's you. Now's not really a good time…" He scratched his tangled mop of hair, hesitated, then sighed. "Alright, come in, then. Harry and the others are here too."

As Hodge stepped inside, Hagrid quickly slammed the door shut.

The cabin was stifling, like someone had just set off a Blasting Curse. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat stiffly, their postures tense. Ron's shoe was missing—probably stepped on by someone—revealing a garish, multicolored sock at his ankle.

"Hodge, we've got something to tell you, but you have to swear to keep it a secret," Harry said, standing up after exchanging glances with the others. He shot a quick glare at Hagrid, who trailed behind Hodge. Just moments ago, they'd been fretting over what to do if word got out about the dragon egg, and now, someone had walked right into their secret.

"You mean the Philosopher's Stone?" Hodge asked casually.

"Not that! It's Hagrid—he won a bet last night and got—wait, you know about the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry's jaw dropped.

His words hit like a thunderbolt, leaving the group dazed. While they were still reeling, Hodge's eyes flicked to the room's only light source—a roaring fire in the hearth. He crouched by it, peering closely at the blackened egg nestled beneath a kettle.

So this was a dragon egg.

Hodge stared at it, utterly captivated, and said softly, "Yeah, I know. Nicolas Flamel, dark wizard, something nearly stolen from Gringotts… I overheard you lot in the library. You didn't name it outright, but it's not hard to piece together if you're willing to make an educated guess. Nicolas Flamel's most famous for creating the Elixir of Life—his legend's even spread to the Muggle world."

Harry and Ron turned to Hermione in unison.

Hermione stammered, "B-but that can't be true, can it? In Muggle occult lore, Nicolas Flamel amassed a fortune in his later years, so people suspected he could turn lead into gold. Centuries later, an alchemical manuscript surfaced under his name, claiming he and his wife Perenelle achieved immortality through the Philosopher's Stone…" She trailed off abruptly.

Harry looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione. Ron was stunned that Muggles knew of Flamel, while Hermione tugged at her hair in frustration. "I forgot something—there was no Secrecy Law back in Flamel's time."

"What's that mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Idiot," Hermione snapped. "It means wizards back then didn't bother hiding their magic. It's no surprise some true stories leaked out."

Harry quickly pulled Hodge aside.

He swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to phrase his next question. Just then, Hodge slipped something into his hand. Harry glanced down—it was a toffee. "Oh, thanks," he mumbled, the familiar gesture calming his nerves.

"You haven't told anyone else, have you?" Harry whispered.

"No, not a word."

Harry flushed with embarrassment.

"What else do you know?"

"Let's see… you suspect Snape and Quirrell."

"Mostly Snape—he—" Harry began, but Hagrid interrupted, thrusting a plate of ferret sandwiches under his nose. "Try one o' these!" "Thanks, Hagrid, but I'm good. Just had some Easter egg candies."

"Come on, have a bite!"

Hagrid dragged Hodge to sit on the bed near the hearth, his voice gruff. "Don't listen to these three. I warned 'em before you showed up—warned 'em plenty o' times…"

"Then how do you explain Snape cursing Harry in plain sight at the Quidditch match?" Ron demanded loudly.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Hermione added.

"If Snape's up to no good—" Hagrid bellowed, drowning them out, "Dumbledore'd know!" "I'm with Hagrid on that one," Hodge said. "Thanks, Hodge. Point is, I told 'em the Philosopher's Stone's only here temporarily, an' Fluffy's guardin' it. It's safe… Fluffy?" Hodge echoed, his face blank. Though he was sitting in a swelteringly hot cabin, he suddenly felt a chill. "It's a bloody terrifying three-headed dog," Ron cut in. "Shut it!" Hagrid snapped. "You're the one who let it slip!" Ron shot back, unyielding. Hagrid's face turned beet red.

The cabin erupted into chaos.

Hodge listened quietly for a bit as the conversation veered into whether Snape should be trusted with guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Harry couldn't help but jump into the fray.

"Hagrid, you've got to admit Snape's suspicious. Things don't add up… I saw him threatening Quirrell, and he was bitten by that three-headed dog, Fluffy."

"Snape's been teachin' here for years…" Hagrid countered.

Bored, Hodge exchanged a glance with the unusually quiet Hermione.

"Have you read Waffling's manuscript?" he asked.

"I did. It feels a bit… hmm…" She chose her words carefully. "Unorthodox?" Hodge suggested. "Exactly, unorthodox," she agreed. "So, you'll keep it quiet, right?"

Hermione clearly hadn't forgotten the main issue.

"Keep what quiet?"

"The dragon egg, obviously."

"What dragon egg?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, staring him down.

The room fell silent. Hagrid, Harry, and Ron stopped their heated debate and turned to Hodge.

"You don't know what that egg is?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Hodge leaned back, perfectly composed. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's an egg from some magical creature in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid's in charge of patrolling it, right? Maybe he found it during a sweep… It can't be a dragon, can it? That'd be illegal. Unless Hagrid's not sure himself… Oh, by the way, Hagrid, what is it?"

Hagrid gaped, dumbfounded.

Just then, Hodge noticed the corner of a thick book peeking out from under a pillow beside him. He glanced at it, then discreetly tucked it back. The title read Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit.

"Sly one, aren't you?" someone in the room muttered. The comment summed up how the others felt about Hodge's deft sidestepping, but from then on, everyone tacitly avoided mentioning the word "dragon," as if the egg roasting in the hearth was just a charmed salamander's egg.

"That's the best way to handle it," Ron said as they trudged back to the castle from Hagrid's cabin. "Pretend we don't know a thing."

"That's just deluding ourselves," Hermione retorted sharply. "What do we do when it hatches? Pretend it's a winged salamander? 'Oh, dear Ministry official, I've no idea how it got so big—maybe it's under a charm…'"

Harry thought the excuse wasn't half bad.

At least for now, they could focus on persuading Hagrid without worrying about Ministry officials swooping in to haul him off. Unfortunately, their efforts were soon buried under a mountain of homework from their professors, and their occasional attempts to sway Hagrid fell flat.

As the hatching date loomed closer, their chances of convincing him dwindled.

Meanwhile, Hodge visited often, getting chummy enough with Hagrid's hound, Fang, to be on a first-name basis. Sometimes, he even helped Hagrid clean the dragon egg. Once, he distinctly felt the restless stirrings of the tiny life inside.

The next morning, Hodge received a note from Hagrid, delivered by owl.

It read: It's about to hatch.

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