Harry Potter with Technology System

Upon returning to the common room, Daphne and Tracey immediately flanked him, curiosity written all over their faces. "She wanted to know the spell too, right?" Tracey inquired, eager for details.

Harry nodded in confirmation, his response eliciting a whirlwind of questions from the two.

Daphne, her interest piqued, couldn't help but ask, "Did you tell her?" Again, Harry nodded, causing a flicker of surprise to pass through Daphne's eyes. Her next question was loaded with significance, "Will you share it with us too?"

This time, Harry shook his head, causing both girls to recoil slightly, a mix of disappointment and understanding crossing their features. However, before they could voice their concerns, Harry added, "Not yet. It's a highly advanced spell. Even I haven't mastered casting it yet." His tone was gentle, aiming to soften the blow.

Understanding dawned on both Daphne and Tracey, and they nodded, accepting his reasoning. Just then, Pansy Parkinson approached, her usual air of snark surrounding her. "You really outdid yourself, Potter. I wasn't expecting something like this from you," she admitted, albeit grudgingly.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her backhanded compliment. Pansy had been part of the committee for the Easter Egg Hunt and had challenged him to come up with something unique. She had never anticipated Harry would take her challenge to such heights, leaving her both shocked and impressed.

He then said, "As I stated earlier, Ms. Parkinson. 'We' will surprise you all." Parkinson didn't understand again but nodded. "Well, it was a good one. Although I still think you are a softy. We could have won this one." Harry shrugged, "I support Slytherin; you don't have to worry." His comment wasn't about arrogance. So far, in four Quidditch games, he caught the Snitch and secured victory for his team. In the classes, he almost always earned house points. Slytherin was leading by a considerable margin, and no one could deny that it was thanks to Harry.

–

Towards the end of April, Harry witnessed a scene in the library that could only be described as amusingly out of place. Hagrid, the Hogwarts' gamekeeper and half-giant, was trying his best to appear inconspicuous—a feat quite impossible given his size and the small isles he was attempting to pass through. His efforts to remain low-profile only drew more attention. Harry, unable to suppress a grin, watched as Hagrid "sneakily" approached Madam Pince to borrow a book. The book was mostly hidden by Hagrid's large hand, but Harry was curious about its contents. Using his ability to Observe discreetly, Harry discovered the title: Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit.

"Dragon-breeding, Nigel?" Harry murmured under his breath as he perched at the edge of his desk and gazed at the giant, not wanting to attract attention but unable to contain his curiosity.

"Ah, it appears our gentle giant harbors ambitions that might raise a few eyebrows—or scales, should I say," Nigel quipped, his tone dripping with amusement. "Dragon-breeding is not for the faint of heart, or for those with a preference for quiet nights, for that matter."

Harry chuckled quietly, imagining Hagrid surrounded by baby dragons, each likely possessing more destructive power than the last. "Do you think he's serious about it, Nigel? Or is this just Hagrid being... Hagrid?"

Nigel's response was laced with a blend of sarcasm and amusement. "Considering Hagrid's history with magical creatures, I'd wager he's as serious as a Crup chasing its tail. Let's just hope he doesn't decide to start this venture within the confines of Hogwarts. The school's insurance policy, I'm certain, does not cover dragon-induced calamities."

Harry's imagination soared with visions of dragons patrolling the school grounds, a notion as exhilarating as it was daunting. "Dragon breeding, outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, isn't just about the dragons' untamable nature or the XXXXX Ministry of Magic danger classification," Harry mused, recalling his learnings. "It's also because dragons make wizards easily detectable by Muggles. Hagrid could really be stepping into trouble here."

Frowning, Harry decided, "I'll check on him at his hut. Hopefully, he's not planning anything too reckless."

As Harry approached Hagrid's hut, he could sense the mix of excitement and apprehension that typically accompanied any visit to the half-giant's dwelling. Today, however, there was an added layer of mystery, courtesy of Nigel's earlier comments about Hagrid's interest in dragon breeding. Harry's anticipation grew as he neared the door, wondering what new adventure awaited them this time.

Knocking on the thick wooden door, Harry was immediately greeted by a series of muffled curses and the sound of something large moving clumsily inside. The door swung open to reveal Hagrid, looking more flustered than usual, his eyes darting nervously behind Harry as if expecting someone else. The cause of Hagrid's unease was immediately apparent to Harry as his gaze fell upon an object sitting on the fire—a large, speckled egg, the likes of which Harry had never seen before.

[System Message: Norwegian Ridgeback dragon egg. The dragon egg, notably a female, is placed on the fire in Hagrid's wooden hut for the purpose of hatching it. Caution advised: Norwegian Ridgebacks are known for their fiery temperament and require careful handling. Potential for unintentional chaos is high.]

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and fascination. "Hagrid, is that what I think it is?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement at the discovery.

Hagrid, caught between his affection for magical creatures and the realization of the trouble he might be in, replied with a mix of pride and worry, "Ah, Harry, I should've known ye'd be interested. It's a Dragon Egg, he is. A beauty, ain't he?"

Nigel interjected in Harry's mind, "A beauty and a potential disaster rolled into one, I'd say. Remember, Hagrid, the Ministry's not too fond of dragons as pets, especially not inside a wooden house."

Harry ignored Nigel's remark as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. Facing Hagrid, his expression serious yet filled with curiosity, Harry inquired, "Hagrid, keeping a dragon is highly illegal and can put you in considerable danger. Where did you even get it?"

Puffing up his chest with a mixture of pride and excitement, Hagrid revealed, "Won it, I did," then grinned broadly. "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, to be honest."

Harry shook his head, both amazed and concerned. "And what do you plan to do once it hatches? You can’t possibly raise a dragon here."

Undeterred, Hagrid reached under his pillow, retrieving a large, worn-out book titled "Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit". "Been doin’ some readin’," Hagrid said, flipping through the pages. "Got this outta the library – 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 different eggs – what I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare, them."

Harry sighed, feeling a mix of helplessness and fondness for Hagrid's well-intentioned, if misguided, enthusiasm. "Rarity is the least of our concerns at the moment, Hagrid."

However, Hagrid seemed to be in his own world, humming merrily as he stoked the fire, seemingly oblivious to Harry's concerns. A few days later, Harry received a letter from Hagrid, delivered by Hedwig. As Harry tended to Hedwig, it became evident that he had once again neglected to leave snacks for her in the room. This oversight was clearly stated by the owl, whose demeanor could only be described as somewhere between miffed and indignant. Attentive to her needs, Harry gently scratched behind Hedwig's ears, a small gesture of apology and affection, while offering her a portion of his breakfast. Hedwig, despite her initial annoyance, couldn't resist the offering and accepted it with a somewhat mollified air.