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As the air began to carry the first scent of summer, students were drowning under mountains of homework piled high by their professors. The library was packed with heads bent over books.
Hermione, as always, remained the calmest among them. She even seemed to take a quiet satisfaction in the brutal study rhythm. Harry and Ron were another story entirely—yawning constantly, groaning, yet still grinding through assignments with gritted teeth.
The difference now was that Hermione always sat alone across from them.
Today was no exception.
A fortress of books surrounded her; she buried her head low, building walls around herself.
"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" Ron's booming voice drew a sharp glare from Madam Pince.
Hermione frowned but didn't look up. She simply raised her book higher.
Hagrid lumbered over, still wearing that absurdly oversized moleskin coat out of season. One hand was conspicuously hidden behind his back—an attempt at concealment so clumsy it made Hermione roll her eyes behind her pages.
"Just… browsing." Hagrid shifted guiltily. "What're you lot up to?" His voice dropped suddenly, suspicious. "You're not still looking for Nicolas Flamel, are you?"
Harry and Ron instinctively glanced at Hermione.
She stayed silent. In the past she would have snapped her book shut, launched into a prim lecture on their current revision progress, and smoothly redirected the conversation.
The silence stretched. Ron scratched his head awkwardly. "Maybe."
"Don't go shouting about it!" Hagrid glanced around nervously. "I told you already—forget it. That's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel…"
"We're not looking for Nicolas Flamel anymore."
Hermione finally spoke. She poked half her head out from behind the book barricade; her voice was muffled and unmistakably irritated.
"We figured it out ages ago. Anyone with half a brain knows what it's for."
Though she tried to sound detached, her bushy brown hair had frizzed into an angry halo, and her large brown eyes—sparkling with frustration—only made her look like a small, defiant animal puffing itself up in the dark castle.
The bluntness stopped Hagrid cold.
"Oh—don't try to trick me." He tugged at his beard, trying to regain dignity. "And… you know too much already. That Stone's here for a reason…"
His gaze fell on her towering stack of books.
"By the way, Hermione—how's revision going? You look… tired."
"Fine." She bit out the word, then disappeared behind her books again. "If I'm not interrupted."
The flat rejection froze the air.
"I'd better go." Hagrid seemed to realize the little witch was particularly prickly today. He mumbled something and tried to shove the book he'd been hiding deeper into his coat. "Don't get into any more trouble, eh?"
He turned and hurried off. The corner of Dragon Breeds of Great Britain and Ireland peeked out from under his coat.
"I'm going to see what he's hiding," Ron whispered.
Hermione's mouth twisted. She said nothing.
One minute later Ron came sprinting back, arms full of books he slammed onto the table.
"Dragons!" His eyes shone. "Hagrid's researching dragons! From Egg to Inferno, The Dragon-Breeder's Guide… Merlin, he's always wanted one."
"That's illegal."
"Strictly prohibited."
Hermione didn't lift her head. Her voice carried bone-deep exhaustion. "If he's caught, expulsion plus a massive fine. And the main point—it's incredibly dangerous."
"Want to go look?" Ron asked. "See what he's really up to?"
Hermione finally closed her book. She stared at the familiar mix of excitement and worry on Harry and Ron's faces—the exact look they always got right before doing something catastrophically stupid.
In the past she would have jumped up, recited rules one through twenty-three, tried desperately to stop them.
Now she just felt tired.
"Do whatever you want." She shoved books haphazardly into her bag and stood, movements sharp with irritation. "It's not like I'm the one getting expelled."
"Hermione, you have to come!" Ron grabbed her bag strap. "We need you to keep watch… what if—what if Hagrid sets the house on fire?"
She turned and fixed him with a look usually reserved for Flobberworms.
But her feet didn't move in the opposite direction.
"I'll stay for a bit. And I'm absolutely not covering for you if you get caught."
…
Inside Hagrid's hut,
the curtains were drawn tight; the fire roared unnaturally high.
"Hagrid, you're courting disaster."
When Hagrid proudly produced the large, black egg, Hermione couldn't hold back.
"That's a Norwegian Ridgeback egg. It needs extreme heat to hatch—which means the moment it does…" She glanced around the entirely wooden cabin and sighed. "You live in a wooden house, Hagrid. You're going to burn it down."
"I know, I know." Hagrid hummed guiltily. "But I'll be careful. Poor little thing—the stranger was desperate to get rid of it…"
"Poor?" Hermione could hardly believe her ears. "That's a dragon, Hagrid! An XXXXX-class dangerous creature—not a lost kitten!"
Right then the egg gave a violent jerk and rattled loudly.
Harry and Ron instantly dragged their chairs closer, faces practically pressed to the shell, holding their breath.
Hermione quietly stepped back two paces, hugging her bag to her chest, expression wary.
A harsh scraping sound—then the shell exploded.
A wrinkled, pitch-black little monster rolled out. It sneezed; sparks shot from its nostrils and immediately set one of Hagrid's beard strands alight. Hagrid flailed, slapping it out.
"Ain't he beautiful?" Hagrid's eyes brimmed with tears as he gazed at it. He reached out a massive finger to stroke its head. "Look—he knows his mummy!"
The baby dragon snapped its jaws shut on Hagrid's finger, revealing needle-sharp teeth.
"Wow!" Ron breathed in awe.
Hermione watched the scene and felt nothing but absurdity.
"He doesn't know any mummy, Hagrid."
Her tone dripped with exhausted disbelief.
"He's just hungry. And he thinks your finger looks like a sausage."
"So stupid."
She muttered under her breath and turned away. She had no intention of getting her robes singed or earning more detentions.
Hermione sat in the corner, mind blank.
Let them handle it. Whoever wanted to play savior could play.
…
Outside the window, night had already swallowed the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Through a gap in the curtains, Lucian watched the farce unfold inside.
The entire Gryffindor crew was cooing over the freshly hatched lizard—except for Hermione Granger, who behaved like the only sane person present.
Unfortunately, the clear-headed one in the Savior's little circle was often the most miserable.
His gaze drifted to the shadowed corner—where another actor had yet to step onstage.
The play was growing more and more entertaining.
The thought had barely formed when everything changed.
A flash of pale green robes streaked past the window.
Then blinding light flooded the room:
"Lumos Maxima!"