The Other Potter: Book One

Chapter Twenty One: Eggscuse me.

[Chapter Twenty One: Eggscuse me. Edited.]

The curtains were closed when we arrived at Hagrid's hut. Despite the heat outside, Hagrid's chimney had smoke billowing from it. Harry knocked. Hagrid called out, "Who is it?" before ushering us inside and closing the door behind us.

It was so hot inside that I could hardly breathe. It was already warm outside, and the fire was blazing in the grate. Hagrid made us tea and offered us stoat sandwiches, which we refused.

"So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Wow. Harry doesn't mess around.

Hagrid frowned at him. "O' course I can't. Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'pose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and I could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hermione and Harry get stuff done.

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that ... let's see ... he borrowed Fluffy from me ... then some o' the teachers did enchantments ... Professor Sprout – Professor Flitwick – Professor McGonagall –" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell – an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah – yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

If Snape helped protect the stone, it'd be easy to figure out how to get past every other protection.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered, so Hagrid couldn't hear. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," Hagrid glanced at the fire as he spoke.

Harry followed his gaze, "Hagrid – what's that?"

An enormous black egg was sitting in amongst the flames.

"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 fortune."

"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."

"Dragon eggs are illegal, Hagrid." I looked at Harry, who seemed to be the only person who heard me. "Why would a stranger carry one around with him?"

"Something doesn't add up," Harry nodded.

"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 recognise diff'rent eggs – what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. 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.

I was alone in the common room; most people were at dinner, but I didn't feel hungry at all. I decided to write another page in my diary.

Things to worry about:

1) Snape getting the Philosopher's stone.

2) Hagrid getting caught having a dragon in his hut.

3) Teachers stalking me.

4) Exams.

5) Someone discovering this list.

"Oh crap." I had to dispose of the list. I tore it into tiny pieces, threw it in the bin and set it alight, but had forgotten how to extinguish the flames. George chose that moment to walk in. He froze and looked at me in astonishment. I wondered how the picture looked for him: A metal bin with flames pouring out of it, my face blackened with soot and ash, as I stared at the fire.

I gave him a desperate kind of look, "You know how to put out fire, right?"

"Aguamenti," A jet of water shot from his wand and put out my fire. "What were you doing?"

"Just... Hanging..." I pressed my lips in to a very small smile and nodded enthusiastically.

"So there was just a fire in a silver bin when you walked in here?" he asked, one brow raised.

"Yeah."

"Why don't I believe that?"

"Because I'm painfully transparent."

"You really are," He filled his cheeks with air and clapped his face to dispel it. "So why are you lighting fires?"

"I was burning a piece of paper."

"And you didn't use the fireplace, because?"

I opened my mouth to speak and shut it again, "I am not intelligent, George Weasley."

"You're something. That's for sure."

I popped back up to my room and lay on my bed.

I don't have a crush on George Weasley.

I don't have a crush on George Weasley.

I don't have a crush on George Weasley.

I don't.

I do not.

I don't.

Oh no.

I do.