Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed down the path to Hagrid's hut. With Hermione's research, that had mostly involved the book that Viktor had gotten her for Christmas, they had a good idea of what was hidden underneath the three-headed dog. Not that Hermione had any inclination to share where the book had come from.
Ron had bugged her about it incessantly. He knew that just about no muggle family would have known that other wizarding schools existed. Even though Hermione had told him that she'd gotten a letter from Beauxbatons herself. She thought that he had no reason to know.
But, she would bet money she didn't have that it was the philosopher's stone hidden under the trapdoor in the third-floor corridor. She would bet Harry's whole Gringotts account and not feel a touch of remorse at it. She was certain of it.
And since Hagrid was the one who owned Fluffy, which was the dog's name, he might know. But Hermione wasn't counting on him giving up information easily. Far too easy, since he shouldn't be spilling any sort of secrets to eleven-year-old students. But it wasn't going to be as simple as asking a question. They'd have to get him flustered.
They entered Hagrid's hut, and almost recoiled from the heat. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all shed their outer robes and scarves as quickly as possible.
"Hagrid, it's boiling in here," Hermione said.
"Just keeping it a bit warmer in here," Hagrid said. It was as if he was trying to brush it off.
"Just a bit warmer?" Ron asked. "It feels like you've captured the sun in here."
"More like a sauna," Harry muttered.
"Whatever it is, it can't be good for you," Hermione said. "Why don't we open a window? Let a breeze in?"
She moved to the window, reaching for the latch. It was boiling. Even compared to Gryffindor tower, which was admittedly more drafty than she thought it should be for a magic castle, where a fire was always going.. It was stifling.
Hagrid moved surprisingly quickly for his size. He stepped between Hermione and the window in less time than it took her to reach even close to it..
"Let's not do that," Hagrid said.
"Hagrid," Ron said. "Are you feeling okay? Your face is red."
"And you're sweating," Harry added.
Hermione looked at the pot in the fireplace. "Hagrid," she said, "I think something's about to boil over."
Hagrid hurried over to where his pot hung in the flames. He stoked up the fire, causing the three first years to cringe a little. They could feel themselves flushing, even if Hagrid wasn't willing to admit how warm it was.
Inside the pot, an egg wiggled. Hermione could feel the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Warm environment. Egg. And what did Hagrid want more than anything?
"That had better not be what I think it is," she whispered as Hagrid took the shaking egg and set it on the table.
The egg hatched. It broke apart, piece by piece and out climbed the slimiest creature Hermione had seen emerge from an egg. And she had thought that potions class had some slimy creatures.
"Hagrid, is that a dragon?" Harry asked.
"That's not just a dragon," Ron said. "That's a Norwegian Ridgeback."
Both Harry and Hermione stared at him incredulously. They could hardly believe that the same boy, the one who refused to do his homework, would know what kind of dragon was sitting in front of them. They weren't even allowed to take care of magical creatures yet.
"My brother Charlie works studying dragons in Romania," he said defensively.
"Right," Harry and Hermione chorused.
Hermione felt a little silly for managing to forget that Ron had siblings who were older than Percy. But, being an only child, it sometimes felt difficult to remember that people were often much older than her. And at the same time not old enough to be her parents age.
"Oh, look," Hagrid cooed at the dragon. "He knows who his Mummy is. Come here Norbert."
"Norbert?" all three of the first years asked.
"Well, he's got to have a name," Hagrid said.
"And you're sure that's a he?" Hermione asked.
"Call it mother's intuition," Hagrid said.
Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione just shook her head. Whatever Hagrid was thinking it wasn't great.
"Hagrid," Hermione cried, "you live in a wooden house!"
Later, when she was writing to Viktor, she came to the conclusion that it might be possible that everyone at Hogwarts was insane. Maybe Beauxbatons was a better option. She'd at least consider it.
A/N: So, for those of you who follow some of my other stories, I had the worst migraine in the history of migraines. (Not exactly. But it felt like it. I could hardly see.) But I'm on some super strong meds. And super behind where I want to be. So we'll see where this month takes us. But I do have a full time job. And a boyfriend. Strange how much time those things take.