"Hagrid?" Adrian looked toward Hagrid, who was standing awkwardly at the door, and beckoned to him. "Why are you here? Co in quickly before you attract too much attention from the Muggles outside."
Hagrid didn't stand on ceremony. He walked into the shop, casually chose a sofa to sit on, which creaked loudly under his weight.
Seeing the familiar way Adrian and Hagrid interacted, Harry was puzzled. "You know each other?"
"Of course, Harry," Hagrid replied with a hearty chuckle that seed to rumble from the depths of his chest.
He relaxed further into the sofa, leaning back with comfortable familiarity, adding even more pressure to the poor piece of furniture, which responded with another symphony of distressed sounds. "I've known Professor Adrian for a long ti—longer than you might think. This year, Professor Adrian will beco Hogw—"
"Ahem."
Adrian coughed, interrupting Hagrid's words, and winked at him. "I think, we'd better keep so elent of surprise."
Harry still didn't know that Adrian would beco a professor at Hogwarts. Adrian had decided to tell him this news when they reached Hogwarts.
Hagrid's eyes widened with sudden realization, and he imdiately pressed his lips together. He nodded vigorously, causing his hair to bounce against his massive shoulders.
"What's wrong?" Harry was confused and looked toward Hagrid. "What about Mr. Westeros?"
Hagrid cleared his throat and said sowhat stiffly, "Nothing of importance, Harry, we were just talking about the past. Professor Westeros and I have known each other for a long ti, y'see. He was once a student at Hogwarts himself and I am the gakeeper and keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. Been there for decades now, looking after the castle and the creatures in the forest."
Adrian could only say that Hagrid was indeed not very good at concealing things. His honest face almost revealed everything he was thinking.
Although Harry was still puzzled, he didn't pursue the matter further. He was still imrsed in the excitent of receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter.
"By the way," Hagrid promptly changed the subject, "Adrian, how do you know Harry??"
"I've been living here all along," Adrian replied smoothly, his tone casual and matter-of-fact as he leaned against the counter of his shop. "About half a year ago, I encountered Harry quite by chance in this shop. He was very interested in potions from the very beginning, so I offered him so foundational lessons in the subject."
Hagrid's gaze shifted to Harry for confirmation, his eyebrows raised questioningly. Harry nodded along in agreent.
However, Harry still thought the statent "very interested in potions" was debatable.
What Harry didn't anticipate, however, was Hagrid's emotional reaction to this piece of information. Hagrid beca so happy that he almost cried.
He rubbed his eyes, put his hand on Harry's head and ruffled it, saying, "Oh, very interested in potions, are you, Harry?"
Harry's already ssy hair beca even ssier. He blinked in confusion at the unexpected emotional response, unsure how to interpret Hagrid's evident sentintality over sothing as ordinary as potion lessons.
"You must be very talented at potions," Hagrid continued with increasing enthusiasm, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. His eyes crinkled at the corners with warmth as he gazed down at Harry. "Just like your mother."
Mother.
Such an unfamiliar word that when Harry heard it, he felt ti slow down.
"My mother?" Harry ca back to his senses and stared intently at Hagrid. "Did you know my mother?"
A flash of regret crossed Hagrid's face as he seed to realize he had inadvertently broached a sensitive topic. His eyes darted briefly toward Adrian, as though seeking guidance. It was clear from his troubled expression that he had not intended to discuss Harry's parents with him at this particular mont—perhaps understanding that such revelations deserved a proper ti and context.
But it was too late to retract his casual ntion; the words had already escaped, and Harry's hunger for information about his parents was obvious.
Hagrid looked directly into Harry's eyes—those startlingly green eyes that were an exact replica of Lily Evans'—and seed to struggle internally, searching for the right words.
"Um... yes, Harry, I have been working at Hogwarts for decades. Your mother was a very lovely girl. And smart! She always ranked first in potions class; almost no one could match her."
Harry's heart leaped. This was the first ti he had heard about his parents from soone else.
Adrian turned his gaze toward Lupin, who stood silently near the shop's back wall. Of all the people present here, Remus Lupin was unquestionably the one who had known Harry's parents best.
At this mont, Lupin's face had an expression of intense seriousness that Adrian had rarely seen on the typically mild-mannered man. His cheeks were visibly tense, the muscles along his jawline tightly clenched. Yet despite whatever internal struggle was occurring, he maintained his silence, giving neither confirmation nor explanation of Hagrid's words.
Just as Harry opened his mouth to inquire further—his expression eager and hungry for any additional crumbs of information about the parents he had never known—a harsh, tooth-grating "creak" emanated from beneath Adrian's feet.
Adrian glanced down in brief confusion, only to discover the little dragon nad Torch lying sneakily at his feet. It had its jaws firmly clamped around the leg of Adrian's chair with its sharp baby teeth trying hard to gnaw through the solid wood.
Though still in the early stages of developnt, the dragon's teeth had already left several bite marks on the furniture.
"Hey! Don't do that, Torch!" Adrian exclaid quickly crouching down to intervene. He scooped the small dragon into his hands and firmly locked its snapping jaws with both palms, preventing further destruction.
Torch squird in protest, its wings fluttering feebly against Adrian's grip. "Looks like I need to teach you so basic manners, you naughty fellow. Furniture is not for eating, no matter how tasty the wood might seem."
"Wait!" Hagrid's thunderous voice suddenly resounded throughout the shop. He shot to his feet with surprising speed for soone of his enormous size, and his eyes were widening to almost comical size as they focused on the struggling creature in Adrian's hands. "Is that a dragon? Adrian! Is it really? A genuine dragon?"
Hagrid's unexpected shout startled everyone in the room.
Adrian thought to himself, ‘Oh no,’ as he had forgotten that Hagrid, like Professor Kettleburn, was a complete dragon fanatic.
Hagrid quickly walked eagerly toward Adrian, the sofa he had vacated so abruptly tilted almost flipped from the force.
Perhaps sensing danger from the approaching giant or simply intimidated by Hagrid's overwhelming presence, the previously struggling Torch stopped moving and obediently stayed in Adrian's arms when it saw the giant approaching.
"Adrian, I can't believe it.” Hagrid's eyes widened and he whispered, though Hagrid's whisper was equivalent to most people's normal speaking voice. “You're actually raising a dragon! Oh, this is so admir—" He caught himself mid-word, perhaps rembering the illegality of such an endeavor, and quickly corrected, “—surprising. Yes, very surprising indeed."
He leaned closer and added. "And it's even a Chinese Fireball!"
Adrian couldn't help but secretly admire how, as a true dragon fanatic, Hagrid could identify the precise species of the baby dragon at just a glance.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't be able to tell; in his eyes, all baby dragons were dark, wrinkled, and indistinguishable from one another.
Observing Hagrid's increasingly excited deanor, Adrian instinctively tightened his hold on Torch.
He felt that Hagrid might snatch the dragon from his arms at any mont.
"Yes, Hagrid. It is indeed a dragon, but as you can see, it's still quite small—just hatched recently, actually." Adrian explained.
Hagrid stared at the little dragon's eyes, his face full of infatuation. "I've always dread of raising a dragon of my own! Just look at it—so perfect and tiny! It looks so adorably cute!"
The description "adorably cute" seed sowhat inappropriate when applied to a creature that, even in its infant stage, had sharp teeth, armored scales, and the beginnings of what would eventually beco deadly claws.
"Would you like to hold him?" Seeing Hagrid's childlike excitent, Adrian handed Torch to him.
Hagrid's eyes lit up, and he seed to be glowing with joy. He looked at Adrian with eager anticipation. "Oh, I've always dread of holding a dragon in my arms!"
He eagerly extended his hands and clumsily took Torch.
Torch was very nervous and struggled a bit at first but soon gave up.
Its small body was completely engulfed by Hagrid's enormous hands, making it impossible to move.
"Oh my goodness! It's so small! Look, it's not afraid of at all!" Hagrid exclaid excitedly. "Have you fed it brandy mixed with chicken blood?"
"Of course," Adrian nodded, picking up a book from the table titled "Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit." "It's written in here."
"I've read this book too," Hagrid nodded excitedly. "I must raise a dragon soday if I get the chance."
For the next while, Hagrid continued playing with Torch, and Harry, despite his earlier excitent about discussing his mother, couldn't manage to interject a single question across.
After nearly half an hour of dragon-centric discussion—during which Hagrid had expounded at length about everything from proper feeding schedules to the optimal materials for nest construction—he finally appeared to rember the actual purpose of his visit to Adrian's shop.
"Good heavens! Nearly forgot why I ca here in the first place!" Hagrid exclaid, reluctantly returning the small dragon to Adrian's hands.
He turned his attention to Harry, who had been patiently sitting on a nearby stool. "I need to take Harry to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies, but the Harry said he needed your permission before he would co with ."
Hearing Hagrid's words, Adrian was secretly touched.
"Of course," Adrian nodded to Harry with a smile. "Hagrid is a good person."
...............
After Harry and Hagrid left, Adrian realized he had forgotten to give Harry his birthday present.
But there was no rush; he would just need to send his owl to the Dursleys' house.
User Comments
0 comments from readers