The newly born little animals almost all carry a natural cuteness, and even the bald little Norwegian Ridgeback is no exception—when the little guy spread its wings and flailed on the table, it had none of the intimidation of an adult Fire Dragon. Instead, it seed more like it was acting cute.
But when it opened its mouth to reveal sharp, slender fangs, the cuteness quickly vanished, and a sense of threat quietly arose.
However, in Hagrid’s eyes, the little dragon, not even the size of his palm, was utterly adorable. He quickly took on the role of dragon mum, stroking the dragonlet’s head lovingly, touching its wings, and then was greeted by a burst of angry flas from the baby dragon.
"Look, it can breathe fire!" Hagrid said proudly, patting the sparks on his beard.
"Hagrid," Hermione said worriedly, "how fast does a Norwegian Ridgeback grow?"
"Oh, they don’t grow very fast," Hagrid said affectionately, "but they can grow up to fifty feet once they’re adults."
"Fifty feet!" Hermione exclaid.
"Yeah—it’s just so tiny right now, isn’t it?"
Hagrid completely missed Hermione’s concern and fetched a barrel of brandy from the corner, along with the prepared chicken blood, asking, "Who wants to try feeding it?"
Harry and Ron raised their hands eagerly, while Hermione leaned back, clearly refusing.
Vid was initially interested too, but seeing how excited the other two were, he put his hand down and reminded, "Be careful—its fangs are poisonous."
Hagrid demonstrated how to feed it and then passed the honor to the Gryffindor duo.
Vid watched for a while until his curiosity was satisfied, then excused himself—mostly because Hagrid had made the hut so hot for incubating the baby dragon that he started sweating within minutes.
Soon, Hermione ca out as well. Vid waited for her and said, "I thought you were going back to the Gryffindor Common Room with Harry?"
Hermione replied, "I was planning to, but... I think... maybe I should give them so space to talk things over."
...
Inside the hut, Harry and Ron avoided looking at each other, taking turns feeding the baby dragon in a well-coordinated yet non-disruptive manner. Hagrid was beside them, chattering on about his love for the little guy and racking his brain for a suitable na.
"Maybe I should check a book—books always have answers," Hagrid mumbled, sifting through the crowded cabinet filled with bottles and tin pots, pulling out an old book and flipping through its pages with his thick fingers in search of an appropriate na.
Harry, absentmindedly feeding the dragon, was a bit too slow, and the little creature snapped at his hand without hesitation!
"Watch out!"
Ron slapped Harry’s hand away with force, spilling a spoon of brandy onto the table.
The furious little dragon hissed at its feeder, on the verge of spewing a fireball, but Harry quickly shoved the remaining chicken blood-brandy towards it, allowing it to drink on its own.
The soot-black baby dragon tumbled into the drink, flapped in a panic, and soon found itself surrounded by a feast, settling down to drink with focus. Both boys sighed in relief, and the pretense of indifference naturally eased.
After a mont of hesitation, Harry finally spoke up about what had been on his mind for days: "Ron, I’ve been wanting to say... That day, I actually wanted to ask, but the society has a rule—unless everyone agrees, you can’t introduce others to join. I thought... I should first privately ask the others’ opinions before bringing it up..."
Of course, the first person he asked shot down his inquiry, but Harry felt no need to ntion that now.
Ron exhaled, his tense shoulders relaxing: "Do you know what I thought? I thought you’d made so cool friends and started drifting away from us..."
Actually, Ron hadn’t been feeling well lately either; Malfoy had taunted him: "So, has Harry Potter finally realized that so people are just nobodies and ditched you? I must say, though he’s an idiot, he finally made a smart choice."
Ron, infuriated, got into another fight with Malfoy; his ribs still ached. But more than physical pain, it was the growing distance between friends that really hurt.
"No! Of course not! How could I?" Harry was startled, quickly denying it, and added, "You’re my first friend ever!"
Ron broke into a smile and curiously asked, "What do you usually do in that society?"
After asking, he felt a sense of relief in finally voicing the question.
Harry explained: "SSC is a study group; we mostly write papers together. But after dinner, Vid teaches us spells that they don’t cover in school, mainly defense spells against Dark Magic. I’ve recently learned the Disarming Spell and the Iron Armor Spell. They’re really hard; I’ve been hurt many tis learning them. Do you want to learn? I can teach you."
"Can you?" Ron asked, slightly apprehensive. "Wouldn’t that break the society’s rules?"
"No, Vid said we could teach others... although I might not be a good teacher..."
...
For Vid, the changes in children’s friendships weren’t particularly within his focus; he had more important things to do now.
Early on the weekend morning, Vid arrived outside the Room of Requirent, pacing back and forth three tis with concentrated thoughts: I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve...
An ancient, narrow mahogany door appeared in the wall, and Vid opened it.
The room resembled a monk’s cell, with only a crude wooden bed and a low stool, along with a half-man-high stone pillar beside them. A shallow, empty stone basin sat atop, the edges carved with intricate Ancient Magical Runes. A circle of thumb-sized gems added a touch of grandeur that felt out of place with the room.
This was the Pensieve, a magical object capable of storing mories and thoughts, even allowing one to enter mories and relive past scenes, containing powerful and complex magic. Even Professor Morry admitted he couldn’t create a Pensieve.
Vid pointed his Magic Wand at his temple, murmuring a spell and focusing on recalling mories that ti had long faded away.
A mont later, he moved the wand away, and a thin silver strand was pulled out, extending from his temple and growing longer. Vid gently twirled his wand, as if collecting thread, coiling it up. After a few turns, the silver strand finally snapped.
It hung lightly from the tip of the wand like a spider silk, with one end inching towards the Pensieve. Vid lightly tapped the Pensieve with the wand, and the silver strand fell into it, swirling slowly like mist, emitting a faint glow.
This was... almost forgotten... mories of a past life.
Vid took a deep breath and plunged headfirst into the silvery mories.
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