Hagrid looked down at Harry as though he had just heard the most absurd thing imaginable.
"Find the poacher? Oh, Harry, that's not sothing a first-year student like you should be worrying about."
As he spoke, his shaggy head shook, and his beard quivered with each word.
Harry noticed sothing peculiar—there were scorch marks on Hagrid's beard.
"Just a suggestion, Hagrid," Harry said, then asked with concern, "What happened to your beard?"
"Oh, nothing." Hagrid waved it off with a hearty laugh, his expression softening. "Norbert burned it, that’s all. No big deal."
"Norbert? Who's Norbert?" Harry's curiosity was piqued.
Could it be that Hagrid was keeping another magical creature in his hut?
"Norbert is my Norwegian Ridge—"
Mid-sentence, Hagrid abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth.
Having known Hagrid for a while, Harry had co to understand his nature.
The big guy was like soone perpetually under the effects of Veritaserum, incapable of keeping secrets.
Breathes fire, and it’s Norwegian? Harry imdiately connected the dots.
"A Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, right?" He looked up at Hagrid.
Hagrid nodded reluctantly, his unruly hair bouncing. eting Harry's bright green eyes, he seed to abandon the idea of denying it. "Yes, it’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. She thinks I’m her mum, sweet little thing, really clingy and affectionate."
Clingy? Affectionate?
Harry tried to reconcile those words with the image of a dragon but failed miserably.
"Did you buy it?" he asked with interest. "You once ntioned your dream was to raise a dragon, but dragon eggs are pricey."
"No, didn’t buy it." Hagrid rubbed his nose. "Won it. Last month, I was in Hogsade having a drink and playing cards with a stranger. Truth be told, he probably wanted to get rid of it."
"A dragon egg like that would fetch a fortune in Knockturn Alley. Why would he want to get rid of it?" Harry asked, his instincts telling him there was more to the story.
It wasn’t the first ti sothing like this had happened. It was all too coincidental, just like how Hagrid had ended up with Fluffy, the three-headed dog.
"Maybe he..." Hagrid started, then stopped abruptly as if realizing sothing wasn’t right.
He looked down at Harry. "Wait a minute, Harry, how do you know about Knockturn Alley?"
"Just sothing I heard," Harry deflected smoothly. "You should be careful, Hagrid. That person might have had ulterior motives."
"Who knows." Hagrid shrugged, the massive crossbow he carried almost brushing against Fang at his feet.
The thing looked more like a ballista than a bow.
"Let’s go, Hagrid," Harry said, showing no signs of fear. In fact, he seed excited.
The Forbidden Forest wasn’t unfamiliar to him. He had often ventured there with Poppy Sweeting, Cassandra, or even Veratia. To Harry, entering the Forbidden Forest felt like returning ho.
Hagrid looked at the back of Harry’s head, a question mark forming in his mind.
Were first-years nowadays all this fearless? How could he face the dark and ominous forest with such calm, even excitent?
"We’re not here for fun, Harry!"
Hagrid tried to set a serious tone. Harry’s relaxed deanor wasn’t ideal for a trip to the Forbidden Forest, where complacency could lead to danger.
"This is detention!" Hagrid reminded him sternly.
"Got it, Hagrid," Harry replied with a grin.
The Forbidden Forest at night was eerily quiet, with only the rustle of leaves stirred by the wind and the sound of trickling water breaking the silence.
Clearly, there was a stream nearby.
If Harry rembered correctly, that stream was ho to a creature called the Grindylow, whose tongues were valuable for potion-making.
Walking in silence grew dull quickly. Harry decided to strike up a conversation.
"Hagrid, are there many magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest? Your hut is right on the edge, so I imagine you interact with them often."
"Oh, plenty. Honestly, I get along well with them," Hagrid replied cheerfully. "The creatures here are lovely. If it weren’t so late, I’d introduce you to my old friend Aragog."
"Aragog?" Harry repeated. The na sounded unwieldy and suspiciously arachnid.
"Yes, I raised him when I was a student here," Hagrid said with a fond smile. "He was such a darling..."
Hagrid’s words trailed off as he suddenly beca alert.
He yanked Harry behind a nearby tree.
Harry had also sensed sothing rapidly approaching. He pulled out the wand he had gotten from Darweymar but, mindful of Hagrid’s presence, switched to his usual wand instead.
Hagrid drew a massive feathered arrow from his quiver and nocked it on his oversized crossbow, aiming in the direction of the sound.
"Who’s there?" Hagrid bellowed. "Co out! Stop hiding—I’ve got you locked in my sights!"
Fang barked ferociously at the source of the noise, darting back and forth at Hagrid’s feet.
The bushes rustled again. Just as Hagrid’s patience was wearing thin, a voice erged.
"It’s , Hagrid—Ronan."
Hagrid relaxed slightly but didn’t lower his weapon.
A mont later, out of the bushes stepped... a person? No, a horse?
It was a centaur, red-haired and chestnut-bodied. The color of his horse half matched his hair, and his tail swished irritably behind him.
"Oh, it’s really you, Ronan," Hagrid said, finally lowering his weapon and stepping forward to shake hands with the centaur.
Ronan didn’t look pleased. With a sorrowful tone, he said, "Hagrid. It seems you were ready to shoot with that bow of yours."
"Can’t be too careful, Ronan," Hagrid replied, patting his quiver. "There’s a rogue prowling these woods. Oh, right—this is Harry Potter."
He finally rembered Harry and introduced him to Ronan. "Harry, this is Ronan, as you can see, a centaur."
Harry wasn’t particularly surprised. Centaurs weren’t new to him.
On his adventures with Veratia in the Forbidden Forest, he’d encountered centaurs mistaking them for poachers.
"Good evening," Ronan said, though his greeting was perfunctory.
He gazed skyward, his expression grave.
"The Mars tonight... it burns brightly," he murmured.
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