NORBERT THE
NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK
“Hagrid — what’s that?”
But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, un-
derneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.
“Ah,” said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, “That’s —
er . . .”
“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” said Ron, crouching over
the fire to get a closer look at the egg. “It must’ve cost you a for-
tune.”
“Won it,” said Hagrid. “Las’ night. I was down in the village
havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger.
Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”
“But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?” said
Hermione.
“Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” said Hagrid, pulling a large
book from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library — Dragon
Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but
it’s all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, ’cause their mothers breathe
on ’em, see, an’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy
mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here — how ter
recognize diff ’rent eggs — what I got there’s a Norwegian Ridge-
back. They’re rare, them.”
He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn’t.
“Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,” she said.
But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily as he
stoked the fire.
So now they had something else to worry about: what might hap-
pen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon
in his hut.
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