Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"Thanks! This is exactly what I wanted!" He happily pulled out a few books from the pile.

The sharp-eyed Nietzsche discovered that what Hagrid needed were "Classification of Irish Dragons," "The Dragon Seeker's Guide," and "The Dragon Egg Hatching Manual," all of which were knowledge about fire-breathing dragons. This, combined with Hagrid's concealment that day, led him to realize that...

Hogwarts never employs idlers, not even the Forest Keeper.

Before Hagrid could even express his gratitude, several more people followed him down the aisle. Harry, Ron, and Neville could hardly ignore Hagrid's enormous size.

"Hagrid, when are you going to take us to see your dragon eggs?" Harry glanced at the other man's books, then put his hands behind his back and leaned forward.

Hagrid, who had just been looking grateful, immediately became alert upon hearing the familiar voice.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Harry.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you come to the library.” Ron looked at him suspiciously. “Did you suddenly decide to brush up on your knowledge of dragons? Come on, you’ve said before that you wanted a dragon.”

"Keep your voice down!" Hagrid looked around. "I've never raised a dragon before..."

As he spoke, his eyes were filled with longing. In Hagrid's mind, any wizard who was interested in magical creatures would inevitably have dealings with dragons.

"But it's forbidden to breed dragons privately," Hermione interrupted his reverie.

"Don't be such a spoilsport!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, tugging at Hagrid. "Maybe Hagrid just wants to hatch the dragon, and then send it back into the wild before it reaches adulthood..."

Hagrid remained unmoved, which made Ron hesitate.

"You don't really want to raise a fire dragon, do you?"

Hagrid hid the books in his pocket and ignored him. Stubborn as he was, no one could change Hagrid's mind unless Dumbledore asked him to. He just walked back with his head down.

To say I'm not interested would be a lie... How could anyone not be interested in a dragon! It's an important creature that runs throughout European folklore!

"Nietzsche!" Hermione pouted, somewhat displeased with his absent-minded look.

"Aren't you curious about dragons?" Nietzsche slammed the book shut and struggled to his feet.

"Whatever, I'm not interested!"

"That's strange. Those storytellers might have made some mistakes in their descriptions of dragons." He muttered to himself, deliberately speaking to Hermione. "Oh well, you're not interested anyway..."

Half an hour later, Nietzsche and his five companions followed him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Yes, Hermione did come, but just as Nietzsche said, she only came to observe the dragon.

From the outside, all the windows of the house were completely blocked off.

Outside, the air was just beginning to feel damp and chilly, while inside it was the heat of summer. The fire in the fireplace burned brighter than it would have been in winter, and between the embers and firewood lay a black egg.

"Where did you get this?" Neville loosened his tie and used it as a tissue to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Just yesterday, I won it playing cards with someone in the Hogsmeade pub…” Hagrid pulled a bottle of liquor from the cupboard and bit off the cork with his teeth. “Honestly, that guy was definitely a smuggler.”

Smuggling dragon eggs is illegal, so the other party used them as a wager and lost to Hagrid.

"Then you just got hundreds of Galleons for free?!" Hermes exclaimed, marveling at his good fortune.

“That’s not necessarily true. There aren’t many people willing to buy this kind of thing, and the dark wizards in Knockturn Alley don’t like being targeted by the Ministry of Magic.” Hagrid’s face turned red from choking on his liquor. “If you can’t find a seller, it’s worthless.”

Unlike other dark magic items, dragon eggs offer very little benefit.

It is indeed very valuable and expensive, but to hatch a fire dragon, not to mention the effort and cost involved, even the fire dragon blood obtained afterwards is not something that many wizards would bother with.

Nietzsche took off his wizard's robe, squatted down in front of the fireplace, and examined the dragon egg up close.

"Do you know that person?" He noticed that the dragon egg's surface had a rough texture like charred wood, and its color was charcoal black.

“How could I possibly know a stranger? The Hog's Head has all sorts of people,” Hagrid added. “You third-years will have the opportunity to go to Hogsmeade, but I don’t recommend it.”

Hagrid explained to them that the Hog's Head pub was mostly frequented by idle wizards, and also by thieves and burglars.

Unless you have exceptional skills, you'll only be someone people have their eyes on there.

But for Harry, this meant another new thing to worry about—what if Hagrid's secret got out, and he'd have to move to the Seaview Cottage in Azkaban.

“Do you think…it’s possible that someone did this on purpose?” Harry moved closer to Nietzsche and leaned in to ask.

“There are too many unstable factors. Even if someone did it on purpose, there is no evidence. A bottle of compound decoction can easily change a person’s height, appearance and voice.” Nietzsche shook his head slightly, feeling somewhat wary as well.

Hagrid, however, sensed no danger whatsoever. He simply hummed a tune and poked at the firewood in the stove with an iron hook.

Chapter Sixty-Two: How to Train Your Dragon

A few days later, Mercury first flew to the Gryffindor table, and then flew to Nietzsche's shoulder with a note in its beak.

That was the message Hagrid had sent them: it was about to be born.

Hermione only has Herbology class on Tuesday mornings, while Nietzsche has Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, so he'll have to be the last one there... Hopefully Hagrid's dragon is waiting for him in its egg.

For Nietzsche, witnessing the birth of a life was a fortunate thing.

After finishing the last lesson on Dark Magic Defense, Professor Flitwick, who was heading back to his office, bumped into Quirrell, who was just leaving the building.

Nietzsche, who was following closely behind, noticed that the two were having a pleasant conversation. However, Quirrell was thinner than before, but when he saw the students in the corridor, he still stood on tiptoe and waved his arms high to greet them.

The Slytherins passing by nodded respectfully to Professor Quirrell.

"There are only a few months left until the end. By the way, are you still planning to continue teaching?" Professor Flitwick asked with a smile, holding his water glass.

“We’ll see…” Quirrell leaned against the stone wall of the corridor.

"What are you saying? There aren't many people applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position these days." The old headmaster looked at his physique and felt a pang of sorrow. "Sigh~ But you can recover first."

Quirrell pulled his clothes tighter and forced a smile.

Seeing him like this, Professor Flitwick couldn't help but wonder about the school's legends—who knows, maybe that person really did put down a curse.

"Someone else will always take over my job..."

“They weren’t all scoundrels, were they?” Flitwick said angrily. “You have no idea what kind of people submitted applications to the principal back then… even that guy who used to love to brag wanted to come!”

Quirrell looked quite surprised when he heard this, but he just laughed with the dean.

Then he spotted Nietzsche, and beckoned to him, causing Nietzsche's clothes to fly into his hand, pulling their owner along.

"Maybe he can take over and continue teaching me the knowledge I haven't finished teaching."

"Professor, it's been a long time since you've had a tutoring session with me," Nietzsche said with a forced smile, his tone slightly reproachful.

“I have nothing more to teach you, so please let me go.” Quirrell laughed and patted his head. “You can also do research with the Dean in the future; he really liked my Christmas present.”

This gift was naturally his research on the nature of standard spells.

Nietzsche wished time could stand still as the two of them chatted and laughed in the crowd. He lowered his profile, kept his head down, and listened to them talk about their youth.

Flitwick was helpless about this.

He said, "I know what you're thinking. You just want to travel around a bit more. What's the big deal? Just remember that there will always be a seat for you here."

The headmaster of Ravenclaw seemed like a parent, simply saying to the playful children: "Go ahead and play, but remember to come back and eat early when you're tired."

Nietzsche could feel Professor Quirrell's hand stop rubbing his hair.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Quirrell suddenly changed his form of address. “We can talk about the future later.”

He lowered his head, and the reflection in his eyes included Nietzsche and the diminutive Frivius.

This is a form of recognition, and this recognition and respect is not due to the master's help, nor does it come from dark magic, but rather because of the efforts he once made in Muggle studies and what he has rediscovered.

"I'm going back to rest now, Nietzsche. I'll be testing you at the end of the semester."

Professor Flitwick felt uneasy watching Professor Quirrell slowly walk away, leaning against the wall, but he couldn't say anything. He could only tell the other person to get some rest.

When Nietzsche arrived at Hagrid's hut, he was standing at the door, trying to compose himself, when the wooden door was suddenly opened.

"Hurry up, I heard your footsteps a long time ago." Hermione saw that he was still dawdling and grabbed Nietzsche, pulling him into the house. "If you come any later, you'll miss the day the dragon is born."

“Didn’t you say you weren’t interested?” Nietzsche deliberately provoked her.

Hermione stared at him blankly, then said, "Should I leave?"

“Just kidding… Look! There’s already a crack!” Nietzsche said with a grin, pulling her down to sit and coaxing her, “I heard there’s an elective course in magical zoology in the third year, which is a perfect example of a plus.”

“That’s a good reason,” the girl said, tilting her chin up and letting out a soft hum.

The charcoal-black eggshell first made a cracking sound, and then a screeching sound began to emanate from inside. A claw broke out of the shell, followed by a black head that pushed open the upper part of the shell.

The cracked eggshell was like a hat, covering the little dragon's head and obscuring its eyes.

It rolled over and wobbled out of the eggshell, belly up.

"So cute~" Hagrid used his fingernail to pick at the eggshell fragments.

The little dragon lay on the table, its gaze tilted back towards Nietzsche, and it snorted sparks at him.

It was entirely black, with tiny soft spines on its back and wings. When those orange-red eyes stared at it curiously, something seemed to be calling out to Nietzsche, urging his hand to slowly move closer to it.

With my index finger pressed firmly against the table, I carefully touched the calluses on the faucet.

"Do you have teeth? Hmm?" Nietzsche tapped its head. "Toothless?"

The dragon opened its mouth, revealing its small, sharp teeth.

"No, I should be its mother!" Hagrid tried to tease the dragon with his finger, but it rolled over and bit his finger hard.

"Looks like it doesn't like you." Harry chuckled.

“But I’ve heard that dragons grow very fast. What will you do then?” Neville hid behind Harry, only peeking out. “You can’t keep it here forever.”

“This is what I won!” Hagrid said stubbornly. “Besides, it’s so small now, it’ll die out there.”

The six of them sat around the round table, observing the dragon at such close range—a rare opportunity indeed. Hermione had already recorded the characteristics of the Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon in its juvenile stage.

The young dragon's wings were not yet fully open, and it could only bar its teeth and claws at the large head in front of it.

"Who?!" Hermione heard footsteps that didn't belong inside the house. She immediately turned around and pushed open the door. There was only a figure on the distant hillside. After a while, the person crossed the hill and disappeared.

"What happened?" Hagrid's face turned ashen. "Didn't I tell you not to go around spreading rumors!"

"My bad, Malfoy must have overheard me on my way to Herbology class this morning," Ron said regretfully, slamming his fist on the table.

Now that's settled, once the other party reports Hagrid, this fire dragon will have no chance of staying here. Hagrid walked to the side, mixed brandy and chicken blood together, and made a bowl of food specially for the young dragon.

Hagrid watched as the dragon staggered to the edge of the bowl and gulped down chicken-blood brandy, and his eyes suddenly became misty.

There must be another way.