Arya sprawled lazily on Hagrid's bed, casually reminding Cohen as empty butterbeer bottles littered the space nearby.
**[Though I take back what I said before—butterbeer's actually pretty good.]**
A thick blanket was spread out on the floor, suggesting Hagrid had opted to sleep there himself—a completely unsurprising arrangent.
But for now, Hagrid's full attention seed to be glued to the dragon egg.
"I don't know much about this stuff, though—Cohen, could ya help borrow a few books from the library? Sothin' about hatchin' fire dragons?" Hagrid asked eagerly. "I never thought I'd actually get my hands on a dragon egg—it's just so beautiful…"
The egg didn't exactly scream "beautiful." It looked more like an oversized duck egg with a blackened, slightly grimy shell.
"Sure, I was headin' to the library to return so books anyway," Cohen agreed. "I'm kinda curious to see what a fire dragon looks like too."
Truth be told, Cohen was mostly interested in the dragon's soul strength. The last ti he'd seen Fawkes at Dumbledore's, the phoenix had a soul strength identical to Dumbledore's. Maybe a fire dragon's soul would be just as impressive.
As for eating it—that was another matter. Cohen felt that killing a newborn dragon for a asly 1% boost to his soul integrity wasn't worth it. He'd rather steal a lollipop.
Cohen was efficient at borrowing books. Madam Pince had grown used to his thrice-weekly visits, and as long as he wasn't after anything from the Restricted Section, she approved his requests quickly.
This ti, he checked out *Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland*, *From Dragon Egg to Inferno*, *A Guide to Raising Fire Dragons*, and *Raising Dragons for Fun and Profit*.
Madam Pince's sharp gaze scanned Cohen for any signs of fla-singed clothing—she thought the idea was ridiculous. An eleven-year-old wizard couldn't possibly have gotten hold of a dragon egg.
By the ti Cohen returned to Hagrid's hut, Hagrid had already set up a little nest and a pot for incubation.
"It takes two weeks for a dragon egg to hatch," Cohen reminded Hagrid, who was getting ahead of himself with excitent. "And they don't stay in cotton nests—that'll burn your wooden house down."
Following the description in *Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland*, Hagrid identified the egg as a Norwegian Ridgeback.
They'd need to keep it roasting over a fire—dragon mothers breathed on their eggs to incubate them. Then, they'd wait for the hatchling to erge and feed it chicken blood mixed with brandy every half hour after it broke the shell. ("What, is dragon spit made of brandy or sothing?" Cohen muttered, skeptical of the book's claims.)
In its egg state, the dragon had no soul yet, so Cohen would have to wait until it hatched to check.
And hatching would take a full two weeks…
That left the task of keeping the fire going to Hagrid.
The holiday's end ca in a flash, and classes started up again.
When Hermione returned and heard that Harry and the others had spent several sleepless nights sneaking around, she expressed her motherly concern ("What if Filch catches you?!").
But the real unease was still to co—
The first weekend after term started, Harry had a Quidditch match against Slytherin.
The kicker? Snape was refereeing.
"Snape's refereeing?!" Ron asked incredulously over breakfast one morning. "Has soone lost their mind? Since when does he referee Quidditch matches?!"
"He's up to no good," Hermione said firmly, now fully convinced of Snape's shady intentions. "Maybe, Cohen, you could teach us that countercurse—just in case he tries sothing on Harry again…"
"A Saint Seiya doesn't get hit by the sa move twice," Cohen said, shaking his head. The real troublemaker wasn't Snape—it was Quirrell, and himself.
With Snape as referee now, Quirrell wouldn't dare act up. The referee had a clear view of the entire pitch and could easily spot anyone casting a nasty hex.
"He failed last ti. He's not dumb enough to try the sa trick and flop again."
Harry and the others were left stewing in worry.
"Don't play," Hermione said anxiously.
"Say you're sick?" Ron suggested.
"Or pretend you broke your leg?" Hermione added.
"Actually break your leg," Ron said, sounding oddly determined.
"I'll break your leg for you," Cohen offered matter-of-factly. "Just pay ten Galleons. I'll probably get a week of detention for attacking a classmate, after all."
With that, Cohen pulled out his wand.
"Ha, thanks," Harry replied dryly.
"But I can't. There's no reserve Seeker. If I drop out, Gryffindor's got no chance in this match."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione braced for the worst, but the Quidditch ga went just as Cohen predicted—Harry ca out unscathed.
Dumbledore showed up to watch this ti too, making it even less likely for Quirrell to try anything.
Without interference, the match wrapped up in barely five minutes. Harry caught the Snitch so fast it was like he'd cheated.
"He's cheating!"
So naless Slytherin captain shouted again—just like last ti, when he'd complained about Harry catching the Snitch with his mouth.
But…
"So what if he did?"
Cohen shrugged, speaking up for Harry. "This match was all effort and sweat, right, Harry?"
"Absolutely," Harry said, a grin spreading across his face.
That joy lasted maybe half a day—or less.
When Cohen saw Harry in the common room later, his face was clouded with lancholy. Hermione and Ron, sitting nearby, didn't look much better.
After Cohen sat down, they started whispering to him about what Harry had run into after the match—
Harry had gone to drop off his broom at the shed, but he spotted a hooded figure dashing out of the castle toward the Forbidden Forest.
"I grabbed my broom and followed. It was Snape and Quirrell," Harry said, voice thick with worry. "I overheard them. Snape was threatening Quirrell, telling him to help steal the Philosopher's Stone."
"Should we assassinate Snape?" Cohen raised an eyebrow.
"If only," Harry said wistfully.
"Forget it. You couldn't take Snape solo in five years," Cohen said, shattering Harry's daydream. "Instead of worrying about that, how about focusing on the howork you've been putting off all week?"
The next week, with a fresh slate of assignnts, Harry kicked off his carefree Hogwarts detective life once more.
To figure out the magic protecting the Philosopher's Stone, Harry dragged his little crew to the one person they could ask about it—Hagrid.
Inevitably, the group discovered the giant dragon egg Hagrid was hiding in his hut.
"Shh—" Hagrid ushered all four of them inside. "Don't tell anyone—this is and Cohen's—"
"Hagrid, you just ratted out," Cohen said, struggling to keep a straight face. It wasn't a big deal, though.
"Oh—sorry…" Hagrid clapped a hand over his mouth, flustered.
"You're raising a dragon and didn't tell us?!" Harry asked Cohen, incredulous.
"This is illegal, Cohen!" Hermione said, her voice tight with anxiety. "And Hagrid lives in a wooden hut!"
"When it gets bigger, we'll move it sowhere else," Cohen said, already planning the dragon's future. "Don't worry."
"I'm keepin' track o' the ti," Hagrid said, brushing off their legal concerns. All he cared about was when the egg would hatch. "Two more days, and the little dragon's comin' out—yeh won't wanna miss this. Yeh can be there with as the first people it sees when it hatches!"
*Let's just hope this dragon doesn't get traumatized for life by the hybrid evil creature staring it down right out of the shell…*
Cohen had a feeling Norbert would spend its whole life trying to heal from the psychological scars of its hatching day.
(End of Chapter)
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